Midnight Angel
by Isis FG
Summary: BA fic . total AU . Angel moves to small town Sunnydale, never expecting to find himself embroiled in its dark secrets . COMPLETE .
1. Prologue

**Title: **Midnight Angel  
**Authors: **Isis FG  
**Started: **October 5, 2003  
**Completed:** ?

**Feedback: **not mine, I'm just using them for my amusement.

**Rating: **R  
**Pairing: **B/A (major), also W/S, Gi/Jo...maybe some others  
**Summary:** total AU - Angel moves to small town Sunnydale, never expecting to find himself embroiled in its dark secrets.  
**Main Characters:** Angel, Buffy, Giles, Willow, Spike, Xander  
**Supporting Cast**: Fred, Gunn, Faith and probably some others  
**Spoilers: **none whatsoever, this is a total AU

**Distribution: **if you already have something of mine, you may take this. If not, please ask first!

**Author's Notes:** Initially, Stars and I were going to co-write this fic, but due to RL interference, we couldn't coordinate our schedules. So this has just been written by me, but I have to give some credit to Stars because we developed some of the details of this fic together. Anyway, I first started this ages ago, and am only now getting around to focusing on it completely. It's quite plot heavy and somewhat dark (though not overly descriptive). Hope you all enjoy it!

**Warnings:** dark themes (murder, references to rape), angst, language

Prologue

Sunnydale, year 2000

Fingers tapping impatiently on the side of his briefcase, Rupert Giles shifted on his feet, waiting for what seemed to be endless minutes for the elevator to reach his floor. The damned machine seemed to take longer and longer each day. That was untrue, of course. He was just anxious to get home to his family. Despite having been married for twenty-five years, since he was a youthful twenty-six, he still reveled at the notion of going home to his wife and children. They were, in the easiest of terms, his very life.

The bell of the elevator finally dinged and Rupert, or Giles as he was commonly called, entered quickly. He stood straight in the compartment, always one for proper posture and presentation. And it certainly wouldn't do for one of his position to look as if he were slacking. The car stopped briefly at the next floor, allowing a young man to enter. If he was remembering correctly, the boy was one of the new copy editors, fresh out of college. They spoke quietly as the elevator continued down to the parking garage.

They parted after exiting, Giles telling him to have a good weekend. He strode quickly to his car, a shiny red convertible BMW that his wife jokingly called his mid-life crisis to which he had earnestly replied that it had simply been time for a new car as his old economical sedan had been requiring regular maintenance. It wasn't as if he couldn't afford a minor luxury. As the owner of a small, yet well respected, magazine that focused on history and culture, he generated enough profit to live comfortably. But not yet enough to move his family out of Sunnydale. That idle thought gave him pause, but he quickly pushed it aside. Soon, he told himself. Another year or two.

Giles dropped his briefcase into the back seat of his car and slid into the driver's seat. After starting the engine, he glanced at his watch and groaned. It was after seven p.m. He was supposed to have been home over two hours ago. That was one of the pitfalls of owning a business, he supposed. Less than twenty-four hours before the latest issue of his magazine was to go to print, one of the advertisers, an unfortunate but necessary evil in his mind, had threatened to pull their ads. Resolving the matter had taken an hour and a half long conference call where he'd had to summon every ounce of diplomacy in him, something he possessed normally with abundance. Thankfully, they'd ironed out the problems and now he could finally go home.

Temper already heady, he cursed audibly at the slow-driving station wagon in front of him. Why did there always seem to be a Sunday driver in front of you when you needed to get somewhere? One of those mysteries of life. All he wanted was to get home. It was movie night with his family, a tradition he cherished and looked forward to. Thirty years ago, during his embarrassing rebellious youth, he would have laughed at the image he now presented. Being a dutiful husband and father had not been his vision of the future then. But now, his family, their happiness, and his business were all he needed in his life.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the local high school as he passed it. A shiver inched down his spine, memories leapt into his mind. He fervently pushed them aside, wishing they didn't exit. But they did, and he would never be able to forget. Things like that could never be forgotten, or the suffering that had coincided. It was all still part of him, and his family. And that was all the more reason to get home quickly.

Giles slowed his speed as he turned onto Main Street. The very last thing he needed was to be pulled over by the police, so he tread carefully down the busy street. Stopping at a red light, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. He didn't need to gaze around to know that more than one pair of nosey eyes were directed at him. It was always the same. Sighing inwardly, he wondered why after three years they still stared and why he had yet to get used to it. But then, being a town pariah was not something one could particularly get used to.

Blatantly ignoring their hushed voices and heated gazes, he proceeded through the intersection once the light turned green. Small towns had long memories, as he well knew, and this one was no exception. As much as he wanted to say that their words and stares didn't bother him, he couldn't. Not when they caused so much damage to his family. He should have moved them to Los Angeles years ago. It would have saved them a lot of pain and misery, but his responsibilities to the magazine, and the financial burden of moving, prevented it. Again, he told himself, soon. Then everything would be better.

Reaching the end of the main strip of town, he turned left and headed toward the outskirts of Sunnydale, California, the small, seemingly picturesque town that twenty-seven years ago he'd found himself settling in. Back then, he hadn't exactly been thrilled with the move, but the opportunity to be a historical consultant at the magazine he now owned had been too much to pass up. The move had worked out, though, as not long after arriving, he'd met Joyce Summers when he'd visited the art gallery she'd worked in. A short four months later, they were married, and he'd never once regretted it. Still, he found himself glad that his family's home was several miles outside of town and away from prying eyes. It was better for them that way.

With a sigh of gratitude, Giles turned into the long drive that led up to his home. The setting sun glared through his windshield as he drove through the scattered trees. He rounded the final bend and came to a stop to the left of the front door. Stepping out of the car, he glanced up at the house. It was rather large, made from local wood and stone, with two full stories and a third floor with pitched ceilings. The perfect family home.

A vivid memory of the many times his children, still young and silly, rushing out the door to greet him played in his mind. They had always loved to practically jump on him when he returned home from work. The small smile was fleeting, replaced by an uneasy frown. The entire house was dark. Unusually so. From his stance in front, he couldn't see a single light gleaming through the polished windows. Strange, he thought. Joyce would have left the lights on for him.

Quickening his steps, and fighting off a ridiculous sense of unease, he strode to the front door and entered the house. Utter silence slapped at him. No laughs, no chatter, no playful arguments. Nothing. He groped for the light switch, flipping it to illuminate the room. Everything seemed normal in the now lit room, except for the suffocating silence. The unease wound tighter. There was usually always someone there to greet him.

"Joyce?" he called out into the quiet house, his own voice startling him.

No answer came. With hurried steps, Giles made his way into the kitchen. He was met by yet another darkened, quiet room. Flipping on the overhead light, he glanced toward the refrigerator, expecting, as was typical if they'd gone out, to find a note saying that they'd gone out for ice cream or some such thing and would be back soon, but instead there was only blank stainless steel.

Growing increasingly worried, he paced quickly through the house, "Joyce? Owen?" he called out to his wife and son.

Again, no one answered. Checking his study and the parlor, he found them also dark and empty. His concern was growing by the second. This was not typical behavior for his family. And he was certain they couldn't have gone out without leaving a note. He supposed they could be angry that work had held him late, but he knew better. They understood the constraints of owning a business.

Relief coursed through him when he saw soft light emanating from beneath the door to the family room. He walked quickly toward it, already anxious to settle down with his wife and children for a night of whatever movies they'd picked out. He could hear the TV blaring through the closed door and shook his head. Dawn, his youngest, had a tendency to turn the thing up ridiculously loud. They probably hadn't even heard him come home.

Grabbing the knob, he turned it and pushed the door open. "Joyce? Childr-."

The word choked in his throat, his body came to an abrupt halt. The briefcase he'd carried with him dropped heedlessly to the floor. Bile rose in his throat as he staggered back a step.

Red, deep dark pools of it, swam across his vision, churning his stomach and horrifying him. He blinked, trying to push what he was seeing away. But it was still there. Red swimming through red.

Blood. Everywhere.

And in the middle, the still, lifeless forms of those he loved dearly.

"Oh God!" he choked out in a meager whisper.

Time froze. His vision wavered. Past, present, and future tumbled together and shattered in a vicious explosion in his mind as he stared, unable to move, at the horrible tableau before him. His children, his wonderful, darling children, forever frozen as they lay on the floor, violent wounds marring their youthful faces and bodies. And, there, only a few feet from him, drenched in a pool of deep red, lay his precious wife, her lifeless eyes staring aimlessly at the ceiling.

"No!" he barely managed to whisper before he fell to his knees, heavy sobs shaking his body, as he knew deep in his heart that it was already too late, that there was nothing he could do. Everything he loved was gone.

TBC


	2. Chapter 1

Well, here's the next chapter of my "all human crapfic". Read the reviews if you want to know what that's about. I want to say thanks to everyone who sent me feedback and welcomed me back after the four month break I took. I really appreciate it! A note about this chapter...it's quite different than the prologue, and you're all probably going to want to throw things at me. This fic has quite a twisted plot, and the prologue was a bit of a teaser about what will come. This chapter is pretty much a character introduction, and setting things up for the rest of the fic. So please don't be annoyed with the lack of action.

Isis FG

**Chapter 1**

Sunnydale, four years later

The setting sun cast a low glow over the deserted beach as twenty-seven year old Liam 'Angel' O'Meara settled his tired and sweaty body onto the worn, rough stairs that stood as entry-way to his recently purchased house. For a moment, he simply stared out over the empty beach. So quiet, was all he could think. Such a difference from Los Angeles and all of the exotic places he had traveled. But then, that was what he'd been searching for. Years of the fast life had taken their toll, bringing a weariness he couldn't have anticipated. Now all he wanted was some peace and quiet.

He loved his job. Truly. Being a photographer was all he'd ever really wanted to be. There was something mesmerizing about being able to take a camera, really only a hunk of plastic and metal, and snap an image of something that would last beyond the subject. In the five years since he had graduated from college, he had been able to travel the world, plying his trade, seeing the beautiful; places, people, animals, and the horrid; natural disasters, poverty, famine. It had been an experience he wouldn't exchange for anything, but he'd also learned that traveling the world, through time-zones, traipsing around jungles, up mountains, eating out of cans by campfire, and all the rest, weren't what he wanted to spend the rest of his years doing.

Most of his life had been spent in nomadic existence. Traveling from place to place with his father, a tried and true archaeologist, he had never really had a home. His father, the only parent he'd ever really had, lived on the go. Angel had no memories of his birth mother. She'd been an undergrad student assisting on one of his father's digs in North Dakota. Their passion had flared bright and faded quick, and when the dust had settled, a baby boy had been left, his mother more interested in living her life than in being a mother. Despite the desertion and the circumstances, Angel's father had never held it against him. He'd taken the child with no regret and continued on with his life, going from dig to dig, lecture to lecture, and being both father and mother.

Angel could say little bad about the way he'd grown up. He'd enjoyed the digs as a child, and inherited his father's interest in the past. Before he was four years old, he'd visited more places than a child's mind could comprehend. It had been exciting and fascinating. And he'd always been full of questions. No, he hadn't minded the way his father lived. And then, when he was about five, came the trip to Texas.

They'd gone so his father could give a lecture at a small university, and in turn had dined in a small restaurant where a pretty young waitress named Amanda had served their food. They'd gone back to that restaurant every night, and when their scheduled week trip was up, they'd stayed. Two months later, his father had married pretty Amanda and settled his family into a small house outside of town. Ten months later, Angel had a baby sister named Winifred. That was the only time Angel could ever really remember having a home. But it hadn't lasted.

The need to dig, to dissect and study the past, continued to call to his father. He simply hadn't been suited to life in suburbia. He'd asked his wife to travel with him, to leave behind the home they'd built and the place she'd grown up in, and she'd considered, but in the end, it hadn't been meant to be. So after a short eighteen months, his father had packed up his life, and his son, and returned to the life he craved, leaving his infant daughter with his wife.

Angel knew his father had suffered, considered himself a failure, but he also knew Daniel O'Meara had done the best he could. They'd returned to Texas often, sometimes staying for only a couple days, sometimes for several weeks, but never permanently. He'd loved those visits, sleeping in a real bedroom, teasing his half-sister. He knew his father would have stayed if his heart had truly been on family, but his love for his work was too strong.

When Amanda had died of cancer, Angel saw his father cry for the first time in his entire life. The memory was seared into his mind, just as the realization of how much his father had loved his wife, and how much he'd hated himself for not being able to give her what she needed, had dawned on him. He'd been nineteen then, and had just started his freshmen year of college.

The death of his step-mother had changed his life in more ways than one. Angel thought of his sister then, as he stared out at the lapping waves of the ocean. Winifred, or Fred as she liked to be called, had been left motherless and broken hearted. With nowhere else for the fourteen year old girl to go, their father had brought her to Los Angeles, rented an apartment, and enrolled Fred in school. The three of them had lived there together, though his father still continued to travel, leaving Fred in Angel's care. He hadn't minded overmuch. He loved his sister. It was that simple.

Only a year later, they'd faced death again, finding themselves having only each other after their father was killed in a car accident while on a lecture tour in New York. They'd cried and grieved on each others' shoulders and, in the end, picked themselves and done what had to be done: gone on with life.

After four years in college, and once Fred was eighteen and starting college herself, Angel had taken after his father and traveled the world as part of his job. London, Paris, Venice, jungles in Africa, the Amazon, one forgettable week in Antarctica, and everywhere in between. He'd seen them all. And after five years of being a nomad, much as his father had been, he'd found it didn't suit him. He wanted a house, somewhere to return to each night, somewhere to, hopefully, one day raise a family.

So he'd quit his job working for _National Geographic_ and bought a house in the small town of Sunnydale, California. His sister thought he was nuts. Maybe he was. He hadn't really taken time to consider the decision; he'd just done it. So far he hadn't regretted it. So far. Of course, he'd just started moving into the house today, so he hadn't really yet had time to have second thoughts.

Standing, Angel walked a few feet away from the house and turned to gaze up at it. No, he didn't have any regrets. This was what he wanted.

He watched Fred walk out of the house and come stand beside him. Her arms crossed and lips pursed as she, too, looked at the old Victorian. "Well, it's certainly your fixer-upper," she said at length.

Angel shrugged, unoffended. "It just needs some work. No one's lived in it for a while."

"I still don't see why you wouldn't stay in LA until the work is done on it," she replied, quirking an eyebrow at him.

Rolling his eyes, Angel stifled a sigh. They'd been around this argument enough times already. He knew she was just unhappy that he hadn't chosen to settle in LA near her. "The lease on my apartment was up." The same apartment he'd barely ever stayed in and which had only the meagerest of furnishings.

"I told you that you could have stayed with me."

"I know." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders in conciliation. "But I want to get settled, and Mr. Giles was ready for me to start my new job right away."

"I know. Sorry I'm being a pest," she apologized, leaning her head on his chest.

"It's okay." Angel gave her shoulder a squeeze. "And I'm only an hour and a half away from LA. That's closer than me being in Europe or Africa."

"True," Fred conceded, then stretched her back. "Ugh. I'm glad you didn't have a house full of junk to move in. The stuff you did have was a big enough pain to move."

"There are still all those boxes of Dad's in storage," he reminded her, referring to all the historical artifacts their father had collected throughout his career.

Fred cast an eye up at him. "You're hiring movers for those. There's no way I'm luggin' all those crates around."

Angel laughed and looked down at his sister. As he occasionally was, he was struck by the dissimilarity in their appearances. While he had taken after their father with his tall, muscular build, dark brown hair and eyes, Fred had followed after her mother's petite form and narrow face. The only trait they shared was hair color, and even then hers was a few shades lighter than Angel's.

"Though why you'd want to put some of that stuff out is beyond me," she went on. "Are you really going to put that old skull out for everyone to see?"

"This coming from someone who considered going pre-med?" he teased her. Fred was a whiz with science and medicine, but she'd never picked up on their father's interest in old bones, or displaying them.

"There's a difference between medicine and putting a bunch of bones on a shelf," she stated primly, laughter in her eyes at the old joke.

The two lapsed into silence as Angel went back to studying his house. It was a good place. Yes, it needed a bit of work, but when it was done, it would be perfect. Classic Victorian lines, two stories with a large attic space, and his favorite aspect, a widow's walk. He was anxious to see the repairs begin and then completed. Most of what needed to be done was some structural work and refinishing. Otherwise, the house was sound. He looked forward to seeing it completed so he could furnish it and turn it from a house into a home.

"Tell ya what," Angel finally said. "I'll spring for a pizza for dinner."

Fred rolled her eyes. "So generous of you."

"Just for that," he answered back, tugged on her ear. "I'm getting black olives on it."

"Not on my half, buster!" She elbowed him lightly in the ribs. "You can have them on your half, but not mine."

Angel's eyes twinkled before he laughed. He knew very well how much his sister hated black olives. She had ever since he'd told her they were lizard eyes once when they were kids and he had been visiting her in Texas. Who knew a seven year old would take to such a lie?

"How about pepperoni?" he offered in exchange.

"That's works. I'll go try to wash off some of this dirt while you order."

An hour and a half later, after having devoured a pizza and soft drinks, Angel and Fred were once again back on the front porch of the house. "Are sure you don't want to stay tonight?" he asked, worrying slightly about his sister driving home in the dark.

"Yeah. I have class tomorrow and I can't miss it." She wished she had a few days to stay with Angel, but she was coming up on her last finals ever and she couldn't even consider skipping class. "Are you sure you'll be okay here?" Doubtfully, she studied the old house.

"I'll be fine. Don't worry so much."

"I'll try not to, but you have to promise to call me if you need anything," she ordered, turning to face her brother.

"Deal." Angel gave her a hug before walking with her toward her car. "Drive carefully."

"I will." She climbed into her car, rolled down her window. "I'll call you tomorrow."

Angel stood and watched his sister drive away, feeling a pang of loneliness as her car rounded the bend and left his sight. He rolled his tired shoulders and turned to stare out over the ocean. The water had a different look at night with the moon reflecting off it. He'd have to take some pictures once he was a bit more settled in. But right now he was exhausted, and he still had to put sheets on his bed.

He gazed out over the water and sandy beach for a minute longer before shifting to head inside, never noticing the small, pale figure that slipped out of the woods and onto the jetty a hundred feet away.

TBC


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_One Month Later_

Loud pounding startled Angel out of his peaceful slumber, causing him to sit upright in bed. He blinked his eyes sleepily as he tried to figure out what was going on. Running a hand through his hair, he cocked his head to the side, listening to hear the noise again. After a few minutes, the banging started for a second time. Just as he was about to leap out of bed to find out who was in his house, he remembered that the contractors were starting to renovate the upstairs this morning.

With a loud groan, Angel flopped back down onto his bed. It was obvious that he was never going to get back to sleep with all the noise coming from the next room. Why on earth did the renovators have to start so damn early in the morning? Didn't they understand that some people actually liked to sleep? At least when they had been working downstairs, the noise had been somewhat muffled, but now they were in the room right next door to his.

For the past month, the house he'd bought had been undergoing almost constant work. It hadn't been lived in for quite a few years so there were a lot of repairs and updating needed. Before he had moved in the pipes had been replaced, the electrical wiring had been inspected and repaired where needed, and a new heating/air conditioning system was installed.

After moving in, the workers had quickly begun work on the downstairs of the house. The kitchen had received new appliances and countertops; the living room, dining room, and the bathroom had needed drywall repairs and repainting. New carpets were laid, and where there wasn't carpet, the hardwood floors had been sanded and sealed. The bathroom had been retiled and all the fixtures replaced. The remaining room on the first floor had also been redone. From what Angel could tell, it appeared as though the room had once been a children's playroom because of the youthful wall paper and doodles on the walls and floor. Having no use for a children's room, it had been converted into an office for him to use.

Angel sighed as he thought about the original intention of the room. He wanted to have children someday. His job had kept him far too busy for the last five years for him to have any serious relationships, let alone think about starting a family. He tended to have one-night stands, and even those were few and far between, and the women had always understood that he had no desire for a long-term commitment, and honestly, he had yet to meet someone he could envision spending the rest of his life with. But, hopefully now that he was settling in somewhere, he could actually start dating.

So the playroom had been turned into a workspace for him, and now the contractors were working on the upstairs. All of the bedrooms as well as the bathrooms were being repaired where needed, and painted. The work would likely take a few weeks, which meant he would be facing the same wake-up call each morning. Rather than lying in bed listening to hammering and sanding, Angel climbed out of bed and headed for the shower.

* * *

Much later that day, Angel finally managed to return home. He had only planned to stop by his office for a few minutes, but that hadn't worked out as planned. He'd only been working for the historical magazine owned by Rupert Giles for a few weeks, and so far he was still getting used to the change of employment. He had more responsibilities now than he was used to. As head of the photo department, he not only had his own projects to work on, but he was in charge of approving all other submissions. He wasn't quite yet used to working from a desk the majority of the time instead of in the field.

So he'd ended up in his office for longer than he'd planned. There'd been a slight problem with an upcoming photo shoot he had scheduled. The magazine was doing a feature on the local college's collection of Chumash Indian artifacts and he was to go over and photograph them all. Compared to what he used to photograph, it was a rather simple task, but after all of the traveling he'd done in the previous years, Angel really didn't mind.

After ironing out some of the logistical problems he faced with his new job, he'd finally been able to see to the errands he'd needed to run. By then, it had been late afternoon, and he'd had to skip going to the post office. At least by the time he'd gotten home, the contractors were done for the day and his headache wouldn't get any worse than it already was. Maybe he would make a sandwich and then head to bed early for once. The phone, though, had other ideas as its shrill ringing loudly echoed throughout the house.

Angel shook his head, already knowing who would be calling him. "Hello?"

"Hey Angel!" Fred chirped happily through the phone to him.

"Calling to check up on me?" Angel teased lightly.

"What? No! I'd never...," she trailed off and then sighed loudly. "I just worry about you being there all by yourself.

"I'm fine, Fred," Angel reassured his sister. "Besides, this is Sunnydale. What bad could possibly happen here?"

Fred laughed at his brotherly poke at her. "I know, I know...well, actually, isn't it usually the case that small towns aren't as innocent as they seem?"

"Fred!" he chastised her with a chuckle. Sometimes her imagination seemed to work in complete overdrive.

"You're sure you're fine?" she repeated, her worry betraying the fact that her brother was quite capable of taking care of himself.

"Yes, everything's great. Well, other than all the noise waking me up in the morning," he groused, still annoyed over his early morning wake-up.

"Noise? What noise?" Fred jumped in, instantly concerned that something was wrong and that Angel was just protecting her.

"Oh, just the renovators. They started on the upstairs this morning," he explained to her while walking toward his office.

"Oh, yeah, right! I forgot about them," Fred laughed at her earlier jump to conclusions.

Angel spent another hour on the phone with his sister. She'd insisted that he tell her everything that had occurred since their last conversation almost a week earlier. So he told her about the progress on the house renovations and his adjustments to his new job. His wonderful, but always worrying, sister still didn't understand why he had left his old job. So for what he thought was probably the hundredth time, he explained it to her again.

* * *

A half hour after getting off the phone with his sister, Angel was standing in his newly renovated office with a perplexed look on his face. He had searched the entire room for his Day Planner, but the damn thing seemed to have disappeared. Of course, he could always use the shiny, new PDA his sister had bought him for his birthday, but honestly, the thing freaked him out more than just a little. He preferred using good old paper and pencil. Maybe it was still in one of the boxes that had gotten stored in the attic during the move and renovation. With a shrug, Angel got out of his chair and walked towards the mahogany staircase in the center of the house that led to the second and third floors.

Ascending the two flights of stairs, he reached the attic. Actually, it wasn't really an attic. It was more like another floor, entirely livable if fixed up properly. But since he had no need for more bedrooms, the space would just be used for storage. Angel shook his head and chuckled at himself when he saw a box sitting near the top of the stairs labeled 'Office.' He must have forgotten to bring it down after the workers had finished on his office.

Angel sorted through the box for a few moments before triumphantly pulling out his missing planner. He set the little book aside and began putting the other items back in the box. Once everything was packaged again, he stood and began to walk towards the stairs when the window on the far side of the room caught his eye. His brow furrowed as he tried to remember if that was the one that was really a door that opened up to a small balcony. He thought so, but he wasn't sure.

Setting his planner on the top of the box, Angel wandered over to the opposite side of the room. His fingers swiped at the cobwebs and dust motes that had built up around what he could now tell was in fact the door to the balcony. Wiping away some of the dirt that had coated the old glass, he peered out into the dark night sky. Deciding to check out the view from the balcony, he reached down to root for the knob or latch that he knew had to be present. Successfully finding one, he gave the handle a swift tug and felt the door pull open. The rusty hinges creaked loudly as he stepped back and opened the door fully.

For a moment, he only stood and stared out into the midnight blue sky. He took several hesitant steps out onto the balcony, the old wood under his feet groaning from the weight of his body. He wandered to the edge and leaned lightly on the chipped white railing, unsure of its sturdiness. The nearby waves crashing on the beach drew his attention and he gazed out over the rippling ocean water. Nearly full, the moon reflected brightly off the water and cast a luminescent glow to all it touched.

The peaceful atmosphere soothed his tired mind and body, which he thought, was rather ironic considering the nature of balconies such as these. He'd read the stories behind the Widow's Walk. It was said that the wives of sailors whose husbands never returned from sea would walk the balconies, staring out at the ocean, in hopes that their husbands would come home to them. They usually never did, and the ritual pacing in wait became the Widow's Walk of denial. So Angel found it odd that standing on this balcony was soothing to his soul. Maybe it was because he wasn't searching for a lost love, or maybe it was because he'd lived in the noisy city for so long that the mere presence of the serene ocean sounds were calming. Whatever it was, he didn't know. There was just something here pulling at the edges of his soul.

Angel had no idea how long he had stood there, gently reclining on his elbows against the rail. It seemed like it had only been fifteen minutes or so, but when he glanced at his watch, he saw that it was nearly midnight and he'd been standing there for over a half hour. He cursed lightly under his breath, knowing that it would take him at least an hour to shower, get ready for bed and fall asleep, and then he would be joyfully awakened at seven a.m. by his ever conscientious contractors. Maybe if he offered them some extra money they'd change their hours a little. It's not like he couldn't afford it.

Sighing, he started to turn away from the railing to head back inside when something caught his eye off in the distance. He squinted in an attempt to find whatever it was that had flickered in his vision. Seeing nothing, he again went to leave when he saw a flash of white near the woods bordering the beach. He leaned slightly over the railing and squinted his eyes again. This time, he made out the shape of a person who appeared to be sitting on a rock. He wasn't sure, but it looked to be a female from her small physical stature and the long blonde hair trailing down her back.

Angel could barely make out the small form of what he was now sure was a woman off in the distance, but he couldn't help but be curious. After all, it was past midnight and there was some woman just sitting on a rock. There seemed to be a sort of ethereal glow around her that drew his eyes in. Unable to look elsewhere, Angel stood and stared at the luminous white form.

Laughing slightly at his curiosity, he leaned back from the railing and muttered to himself under his breath. For all he knew the white shape could be a stray dog wandering the beach. No, Angel was sure it was a person, a female person. Who was she? And what was she doing there this late at night? It was probably just one of his neighbors who suffered from insomnia and decided to go for a walk. Since he was still awake himself, he figured he might as well walk down and introduce himself. It might be nice to make a friend in his new town. So Angel stepped back into the attic and headed downstairs.

Exiting through the front door of the house, his eyes scanned the area where he'd seem the woman, but there was nothing. He took a few steps and then stopped. Maybe he was so tired that he'd imagined it all, or maybe it was just the moon reflecting off of something. No...there had been someone there. Hadn't there? Suddenly, he saw a flash of white a little further beyond where it had earlier been.

He walked unhurriedly onto the sand, hoping to shed some light over the enigmatic person. His eyes followed her as she moved farther from him. The light, fluid movements of her steps made it look almost as if she was floating across the sand. Angel knew he was being utterly ridiculous, but he had a strange desire to find out who this woman was. Of course, he had to catch up with her first. And he may have been able to do that if he hadn't suddenly found himself sprawling face first into the sand.

Out of breath from the impact of his fall, and momentarily stunned, Angel could only lay there, hoping he wouldn't inhale the sand on his face. When the pain in his chest began to subside, he pulled his body up and realized his shoelace had gotten caught on a piece of driftwood. It figured he would have that kind of luck. Untangling the stuck shoelace, he stood up and brushed the sand off his body.

Remembering the woman, he lifted his eyes, but found her gone. Dismayed, he swiftly scanned the surrounding area but found nothing. His brow furrowed at her disappearance. How could she have gotten away that quickly? Jogging over to where he'd last seen her, Angel looked over the area. There was nothing to show that there had been anything at all there.

"Hello?" he called out before he could stop himself and think better of his decision.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" he yelled loudly after receiving no response to his first shout.

Again, no one answered him. Frowning, Angel walked along the edge of the woods bordering the beach in hopes of finding some evidence that his over-tired imagination hadn't been playing tricks on him. But there was absolutely nothing.

Sighing deeply, Angel shook his head at his silly actions. He had to have been seeing things. After all, he had been up for almost nineteen hours now. Pushing aside thoughts of the peculiar, and probably nonexistent, woman, Angel slowly walked back to his house. It was definitely time for him to get some sleep.

* * *

TBC 


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Angel spent the next few days experiencing what publishers consider 'crunch time'. Until he'd been through it, he'd had no idea how many things could go wrong just before a magazine went to print. He couldn't quite say he was looking forward to going through it once a month. By the first week of his second month on the job, though, Angel felt like he was really beginning to settle in.

He'd spent most of Monday on the telephone making arrangements with Sunnydale University's anthropology department for the photo shoot he was doing there later in the week. He hadn't realized how much red-tape there was to go through just to take pictures of some old Native American artifacts that the university's archeology professor had dug up recently in the area.

To the average person, Sunnydale seemed to be one of those quiet little California towns that was, for lack of a better term, ordinary. The houses were ordinary, the buildings were ordinary, just about the only thing that wasn't ordinary was the ridiculous amount of cemeteries located within its City limits. But apparently, as Angel soon found out, the town was full of history, and most of it was buried, some literally and others metaphorically.

Deciding he needed to view artifacts he was soon to photograph, Angel made a trip to the University. As he browsed through the display cases at the Chumash artifacts that had been discovered only a couple of weeks ago, he tried to concentrate on which objects he wanted to single out for spotlight pictures. The task at hand was becoming increasingly difficult as not one piece out of the twenty-six recovered were standing out to him. Normally he could walk into a situation and something would jump out at him as needing to be photographed, but for some reason today, it was just not happening for him.

Reaching into the open display case, Angel picked up a knife that had once been used by a Chumash warrior. He eyed it carefully, looking for something that might make it stand out from the rest of the pieces. As he continued to turn the knife over and over in his hand, his thoughts began to drift.

"Mr. O'Meara, I'm sorry but we'd prefer that you not handle the artifacts until necessary for the photographs," a soft spoken female instructed.

Angel turned to see a woman in her mid-thirties with dark brown hair eyeing him in annoyance. "Hmmm? Oh, yeah. Sorry about that." Angel answered slowly as his mind switched back to work-related topics. "You must be Jenny Calendar," he said and held out his hand.

"That's me," Jenny answered with a smile and shook his hand. "The artifacts are fragile, and handling them, plus the natural oils on people's hands, can deteriorate them further," she explained.

Jenny watched as Angel carefully placed the dagger back into its case and continued studying the other objects. He was quite handsome; she had to admit, though he was too young for her tastes. Still, the muscular build, spikey hair, and deep brown eyes were enchanting. If only she were closer to his age!

The young man had only moved to Sunnydale a couple of weeks ago, but he'd been the talk of the town for much longer. It wasn't often that a small 'burg like Sunnydale had a famous photographer take up residence within its limits. Most people wondered why such a rich and successful man would choose Sunnydale, and others just didn't care. Jenny, herself, held an idle curiosity about the man, but nothing more than passing interest.

"Are you looking for anything in particular?" she asked him when she noticed Angel's continued stare at the display.

"Mr. O'Meara?" Jenny tapped his shoulder, noticing he seemed lost in thought.

Angel snapped himself out of his internal musings and faced Jenny. "Call me Angel, please. And no, I'm just trying to decide which would be best to use for the photo spread."

"Perhaps it would help if I told you a little about each of them." Jenny then launched into an extensive lecture about the Chumash and the artifacts on display which Angel tried his hardest to pay attention to.

* * *

Once back in her office, Jenny picked up her telephone and dialed the familiar number. "Rupert, hi. It's Jenny."

"Hello, Jenny. I presume Angel has been by. How did it go?" the man on the other end of the line questioned.

"Good, though you forgot to tell him he was not to handle the artifacts," Jenny appropriately chastised him.

"Oh, dear." Though she couldn't see it, Jenny knew he'd removed his glasses and was now wiping at the lenses. "I'm so sorry. It slipped my mind. Everything has been so hectic lately.

"Don't worry, Rupert. He didn't harm anything." She took a seat on her desk chair.

"Was your meeting productive?" Giles hoped it was. They needed to get this article done quickly, he thought as he mentally made a checklist of things to accomplish in the next few days.

"Yes. We talked quite a bit. He seemed a bit distracted, though," Jenny explained to him.

Giles frowned to himself. "Really? Did he say why?"

"No. It just seemed as if he had something important on his mind, but I wouldn't worry about it." She held back a chuckle at his concern. Rupert worried too much about everything.

"Okay. I'm glad the meeting went well." Giles didn't know why, but Jenny's words about Angel bothered him. Perhaps he'd pay a visit to his new employee tonight to see how things were going.

"Listen, I've got to run. Are we still on for lunch tomorrow?" she asked while gathering the materials she'd need for her next meeting.

"Of course. I'll meet you at one." As he spoke, Giles double checked his planner to make sure he'd written in his lunch with Jenny.

"Good, see you then!"

"Goodbye, Jenny."

* * *

After spending nearly four hours at the university's museum, Angel felt as if he were now an expert on the Chumash Indians. Jenny Calendar was a sweet woman, but she was quite passionate about her work. She tutored him not only on each individual artifact, but also the tribe itself and the decimation it faced at the hands of the white settlers. The history lesson had been interesting and informative; Angel just wished she hadn't been so long-winded. At least he now had a better idea of what to photograph for the article.

He had planned to explore the town a bit after his work obligations were met, but now Angel simply wanted to return to his home. Perhaps a night of laziness and TV watching would ease his frazzled mind. Or maybe a book since television wasn't something he typically enjoyed. Either way, he planned to relax. The move, the restoration of his house, and his new job had kept him on the go constantly lately, and he was just plain old spent. So, yes, a night of kicking back was definitely in order.

First, though, he needed to stop at the market and pick up some food. His refrigerator was seriously devoid of things to eat. Already making a list in his head of things he needed to pick up, Angel pulled his sleek, black BMW into the parking lot of the local food store and parked.

As he wandered slowly through the aisles of the store, he had the eerie feeling that he was being stared at. Every so often he would glance up and catch people quickly turning their eyes away from him. Wondering if maybe he had toilet paper stuck to his shoe or something, Angel checked out his body and found nothing. He couldn't figure out why people were so keen to stare at him. And if he were honest, it wasn't the first time it had happened either. He'd been stared at when he'd went to the hardware store to buy a hammer, at the bank when he'd opened up a checking account, and pretty much everywhere else he went.

Unnerved by the other shoppers, he finished his shopping as hurriedly as possible. The sooner he was out of the market the better he'd feel. Wheeling his cart up to the nearest empty register, he unloaded his groceries and stood silently as a young woman with strawberry-blonde hair rang up his order. Her nametag said 'Anya' and she, too, was staring at him, but unlike the others, she didn't cast her gaze away when he noticed.

"You moved into that old Victorian down on the beach didn't you?" she asked quite loudly.

"Uh, yeah," Angel answered warily.

"Why? I mean, that house is crap," Anya stated bluntly.

Angel sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. This woman had no tact whatsoever. "It's a nice house."

"Whatever," she waved off his defense. "Have you seen anything...weird?"

Perking up at the question, Angel gave his full attention to the annoying cashier. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing," she shrugged noncommittally. "I was just wondering."

"Oh, uh, no," Angel lied. He couldn't help but feel that there was something the woman wasn't telling him. Why would she have asked such a question for no reason? Of course, maybe he was so worn out he was imaging everything.

"Oh." Her reply was more a sigh of disappointment than anything else. "Your total is 85.32," she told him and promptly held out her hand for payment.

Angel gave her his credit card and waited while the bagger finished packing his food. He couldn't have been more glad to get out of the small store. Everybody there was giving him the creeps. He couldn't brush off the feeling that there was something strange about this town. The way people stared at him, the whispers he'd heard more than once behind his back at work, and the strange woman walking the beach at midnight. It just left him with a general feeling of unease. What the strangeness was about, he didn't know, and he didn't particularly want to know. He came here to relax and to take a break from the fast paced life he'd been living, and that was what he planned to do.

* * *

Hours later, Angel was feeling much better than he had been earlier that day. He'd come home, unpacked his groceries, and then checked over the progress the workers had made on his house that day. After making some notes for himself about the photo spread for the Chumash article, he took a shower and then settled onto the couch with a recent novel he'd picked up.

He was just about to take a break and find a snack when a knock on the door sounded loudly. Wondering who in the world could be coming by this late at night, Angel set down his book and walked toward the large oak door. Opening it, he was surprised at who he found on the other side.

"Giles, hello. I wasn't expecting you." Angel opened the door wider and waved Giles in.

"Yes, I do apologize for that. I was on my way home and thought I would stop over to see how everything is going," the older man explained casually.

"No problem. I wasn't doing anything really," Angel dismissed his concern. "Do you live near here?"

"Yes, actually, quite near here. It's the large house up on the cliffs." He gestured in the direction of his house.

"Oh, I didn't know that was yours." Angel thought of the house he could see some of from the beach outside his house. "It's quite a large place. Do you live there alone?"

At the question, a dark look passed over Giles' face, but was gone so quickly Angel wondered if he'd imagined it. "Yes, it's just me there," Giles answered and then quickly changed subject. "How did your meeting with Ms. Calendar go?"

"Fine. The shoot should go well."

"Good, good. Jenny said she was looking forward to seeing the article when it's done," he mentioned for lack of anything else to say.

"I expect it'll be a great article," Angel told him, curiously wondering at the kind way Giles spoke Jenny's name.

"I'm glad. So you shouldn't have any trouble with the pictures?" he asked next.

"No. I'm going back in two days to shoot some of the artifacts," Angel relayed his plans.

"Sounds good," Giles nodded. "How is everything else? Are you settled in?"

"Mostly, though it's hard with all the restoration still going on." Angel grimaced as he remembered all the noise the workers tended to make.

"I can imagine," Giles laughed wryly. "What do you think of Sunnydale so far?"

Angel pondered the question for a moment before answering. "It's a nice town. The people are a bit strange, though."

"Why do you say that?" Giles wanted to know, his voice a bit anxious.

"People keep staring at me and some woman asked me where I lived and if I'd seen anything strange," he explained the weird situations he'd experienced but left out the mysterious woman on the beach for reasons he couldn't quite explain.

"Oh, well, they are probably just curious. Sunnydale is a small town. It's not often someone of renown moves here," Giles answered quickly.

The swift dismissal puzzled Angel somewhat. For the second time that day, he felt like he wasn't being told something. He considered questioning Giles, but intuition told him the man had no intention of speaking further on the subject so he let it drop.

"I guess," Angel shrugged.

"Well, I must be going. It is quite late." Giles gave Angel a long look, wondering internally what his employee had on his mind, before walking to the door.

"Thank you for stopping by." Angel stuck out his hand and shook Giles'.

"Good night."

* * *

TBC 


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

A loud crack of lightning startled Angel out of a deep sleep later that night. He sat up in a daze, trying to figure out what had woken him. When the room lit up because of another flash of lightning, he realized that a storm must have rolled in while he was sleeping. Considering that it was three in the morning, all he wanted to do was go back to sleep. Concern over whether he'd remember to close the windows in his car had him wearily climbing out of bed. Rain was definitely not good for the leather interior of his car. He stumbled over to the window, rubbing his eyes in the process.

Peering out through the glass, Angel saw that it hadn't yet started to rain. He could hear rumbles of thunder and see flashes of lightning, leaving little doubt that the rain would soon come. After staring at the sky a moment longer, he shifted his gaze to the driveway and to his car only to find it wasn't there. It took a minute for him to realize that he'd parked it in the garage. He'd completely forgotten that the construction workers had finally finished working on it and that he was finally able to park his car there for the first time that day.

Angel laughed at his forgetfulness then looked back up to the sky when a bright flash of light lit up everything. The storm was getting closer, and it looked like it was going to be wicked. That didn't bother him particularly. Storms could be fascinating, except when trying to sleep. He wished the moon, though, wasn't hidden behind the heavy, gray storm clouds so that he could see land below. He could only imagine what the ocean waves looked like when affected by bad weather. It was too dark, though, to see them.

When lightning again lit up the sky, this time in a series of bright flashes, Angel's eyes were gazing down toward the beach. The entire area lit up almost as if it were day. And that was when he saw it; a solitary figure near the water's edge. The glimpse was so quick, though, he couldn't be sure he really saw it. No, Angel was positive he'd seen somebody there. So he waited till the next flash. When it came a long minute later, there was nothing, just an empty expanse of sand and water.

Perplexed, Angel wandered back to his bed and lay down. This was the second time he'd seen what he thought was a woman out on the beach by his house. Was he imaging things or was there somebody really out there? Maybe, he supposed, it was someone who lived nearby. As far as Angel knew, there were only two houses close to his. To the south was another Victorian house similar to his, and then to the north, up on the cliffs, was the large mansion that he passed on his way into town, and which he now knew Giles lived in. It had to be somebody who lived in one of those houses. But as far as he knew, Giles lived alone. So it had to be the other Victorian house. He'd have to wander down there someday soon and introduce himself, and hopefully find out who the woman was who liked to walk the beach at night.

Though he'd convinced himself of the identity of the enigmatic female, Angel still wanted to know who she was. After all, they were now neighbors. It made sense to get to know the people around him, especially if she often took walks near his house. Tomorrow he had to go into town, maybe then he'd ask around and see if anybody knew who lived in the Victorian. Or he could go to the local library and check the public records.

Shaking his head, he wondered why this was bothering him so much. People walked on the beach all the time. What was so special about this one? Why was he so curious about the strange woman? Angel had no idea, but he just couldn't get her out of his mind. He supposed it was because of the fact that the only times he had seen her were in the dead of night, always alone, and seemingly there one minute, then gone the next. Yes, that had to it, he told himself. It was just the circumstances. Still, he'd feel better about it once he knew who she was.

* * *

The following morning, Angel rose early and was soon on his way into town. He had a few errands to run to get things for the house, and since it was still on his mind, he planned to ask around about who lived him. Laughing at his own obsessiveness, he flipped on his turn signal and made a right onto the main street of town.

Main Street. How original, he thought, but very typical of a small town. Coming from Los Angeles, the quaint road reminded him of something seen in movies. There was one lane in each direction with parking on each side. Along the street there were small stores, no doubt owned by locals, and the sidewalks were clean and neat. It was such a sharp contrast when compared to a big city like LA. He liked it though, so quiet and unassuming.

Parking his car, Angel climbed out and walked to the meter with a few quarters in his hand. He was surprised to read on the metal contraption that parking on Sunday's was free, and that for a single quarter, he'd get an hour of parking time. That definitely was quite different from LA. Shoving the coins back in his pocket, he turned away and started down the sidewalk, trying to decide where to stop first. He needed to pick up a few more things from the market, plus look for a new cordless phone since his had been acting up. It had probably gotten banged around too much during the move.

The first thing that caught his attention, though, was the wonderful smell coming from a shop to his left. Looking up, he saw a sign that said 'Java Bytes'. He chuckled at the name, wondering where people came up with these things. The store appeared to be some sort of coffee shop from what he could tell. The smell made his stomach growl and Angel figured he might as well grab something to eat and some coffee since he hadn't before he left his house.

Walking in, Angel was surprised, to say the least, to find that the shop was actually an internet café. The shop's name made more sense now. He wouldn't have figured Sunnydale as a place to have one, though. The place was nice, in a small town kind of way. It was decorated in muted tones of beige and green with an earthy theme to the paintings and other knick-knacks. All in all, it was rather welcoming, the kind of place he wouldn't mind visiting regularly.

There was an empty seat at the counter so Angel sat down on the chair, finding it comfortable. Soon, a middle-aged woman with blonde hair and a nametag that said 'Pat' came over and took his order. A minute later, she returned with his cranberry muffin and large coffee. Efficient, he said to himself. So he settled back into his chair, content to enjoy his breakfast in the quiet shop.

"Pat makes the best muffins doesn't she?" a male voice to his left soon spoke.

Twisting in his seat, Angel saw a man with floppy brown hair and a medium build. He looked to be a few years younger than him, though no more than three or four. "Yeah, they're pretty good," he answered, not used to having complete strangers start up conversations. In LA, people tended to mind their own.

"Everyone comes here for her muffins," the young man stated, smiling at Pat. "You're new in town aren't you?"

"Yeah, just moved here recently," Angel supplied, sipping his coffee, sighing internally over the tasteful, strong brew.

"Why? I mean, Sunnydale's not exactly an exciting place," he said, giving Angel an odd look.

"That's exactly why," laughed Angel. "I'm from LA. Just wanted to get away from all the noise and such of a big city. Plus, I used to travel a lot and I got tired of it."

"Ah, a city boy," nodded the stranger. "Anyways, I'm Xander Harris, and this," he pointed to another young man sitting next to him, "is my buddy Jesse."

"Nice to meet you." Angel stuck out his hand, smiling, finding it relaxing to chat with the locals. "I'm Angel O'Meara, and before you say it, I know, interesting name."

Xander chuckled and shook his hand. "Hey, you said it, not me. So...where are you living in our nice little 'burg?"

"I just bought an old Victorian house down on the beach," Angel answered, taking a sip of coffee while contemplating ordering another muffin.

"Wow, really? I heard that place was bought. You must have some money saved up to afford all the work that place needs," Xander spoke, realizing the dark-haired man wasn't just some random person. Being in construction, he knew the old Victorian would cost a pretty penny to make livable.

"It's mostly surface work. I can handle it," he replied evasively, not comfortable with talking about his wealth. People tended to get weird when they found out one had money.

"Okaaayyy," drawled Xander. "So, what do you think of Sunnydale so far?"

"It's nice. A lot different than Los Angeles," Angel answered, glad the topic had shifted away from money. He didn't want people to think of him as some rich prick from the big city.

"I can imagine," Xander said with a grin. "I've only been up there twice. Too hectic for my tastes."

"Which is why I moved here," pointed out Angel.

"I don't blame ya, buddy," chuckled Xander, giving Angel a pat on the back.

Angel laughed as well, feeling comfortable around the young man. He wasn't normally the type of person Angel would make friends with. Well, actually, he didn't have many friends period, but this was a bit of a new start for him. It would be nice to get to know some people for once.

Just then, a thought occurred to Angel. He set his coffee cup down and looked once again at Xander. "Hey, maybe you could help me out with something."

"Sure, if I can," Xander responded, shrugging his shoulders.

"I was just wondering who lived in the houses near mine," Angel asked the pressing question on his mind.

"Why?" Xander replied tersely, his hands stilling suddenly.

Before Angel could explain, Pat walked up. "Would you like more coffee, honey?"

"No, thanks," he shook his head, then focused back on Xander. "I'm just curious, I guess," he went on. "I've seen some woman with blonde hair walking on the beach near my house and I figured she lived nearby."

Silence descended on all those sitting within hearing distance of Angel, causing an odd chill to run down his spine. Frowning, his eyes flickered around him and found that he was being stared at from all directions. It made him feel like he had a scarlet letter stamped on his forehead or something.

"There aren't any women living in that area," Xander bit out harshly, the friendly demeanor he had been displaying completely disappearing.

"Really? I've seen her-."

"Just drop it! There's nobody!" Xander said roughly, cutting off Angel.

"But-."

"If ya know what's good for ya," Pat interrupted, dropping his bill callously on his plate. "You'll forget you saw anything," she finished and stiffly walked away.

Before Angel could even try to figure out what had happened, Xander flicked a few bills onto the counter and quickly left with his friend. Shocked into silence, Angel could only sit there and wonder what he'd done. Moments earlier, he'd been having a nice conversation, and suddenly he was being avoided like the town pariah.

Shaking his head, he finished his coffee, feeling decidedly uncomfortable. No one was talking to him anymore, but he could feel their eyes burning into him. He couldn't get out of the shop soon enough so he pulled a twenty dollar bill out of his wallet and sat it on top of the bill. Without waiting for the change, he hurriedly vacated his seat and left, never noticing the two people who followed him out.

* * *

Two hours later, Angel was restlessly sitting in one of the uncomfortable wooden chairs in the Sunnydale Public Library. He'd gone straight there after leaving the coffee shop, his desire to find out about the mysterious blonde having only grown stronger from the actions of the people in the shop. So far, he had absolutely nothing to show for his research.

The supposedly simple task of figuring out who his neighbors were was starting to feel like looking for a needle in a haystack. He hadn't been able to find anything at all about his house or the people who lived around him. For one thing, Sunnydale wasn't LA, and its library certainly lacked the amenities he would have found there. Plus, whenever he thought he was about to have some success, he'd find the next volume missing, or a page ripped, or blurred so much it was unreadable. It was absolutely strange.

Honestly, Angel was beginning to feel more than a little disturbed by his current situation. What had started out as a simple search to meet his neighbors, and of course find the identity of the mysterious beach-walker, was turning into an unexpected mystery full of secrets and cranky townspeople.

Angel laughed at that thought. He'd spent way too much time listening to Fred's stories about small towns. There was a perfectly logical explanation for why he'd been given the brush off in the coffee shop and why he couldn't find any information. There had to be one. He just hadn't figured out what it was yet.

Unable to think of any other sources to check, he grabbed a book with an archive of the local newspaper. Idly, he flipped through the pages, eyes barely reading the printed text. Towards the middle of the book, his fingers stilled as he took in a partially torn page.

Brow furrowed, he stared at the ripped paper, noticing over half of it was missing. The only part left contained the newspaper's logo, and a partial headline: "3 Bodi-." That was all. Whatever article that had gone with the incomplete headline was missing. Glancing at the date, he read that the page was from July 19, 2000; only four years earlier.

Why would someone tear out the page, he wondered to himself. If he or she wanted the article why didn't they just photocopy it? Curious about the oddity, Angel flipped further through the pages and found more missing. There hadn't been any before the first one, all came after. Whatever the pages were about, they must have been interesting for someone to just rip them out.

So focused on the book in front of him, Angel almost jumped out of his skin when a crumbled up piece of paper landed directly in front of him. He eyed the little wad of paper for a second before looking up to see where it had come from. The only thing he saw was a flash of red hair ducking behind a book case.

Frowning, he gazed back down at the paper, hesitantly reaching a hand out to pick it up. This day was becoming stranger by the second, but he couldn't resist the urge to uncrumble the paper. He didn't know whether he was surprised or not to find something written on the inside.

In small, bubbly handwriting it said:

"_You won't find what you're looking for. Meet me in study room 2."_

* * *

TBC! 


	6. Chapter 5

AN: I wanted to say thank you to all of you (here at who left feedback on the last chapter! You guys are awesome, and I really appreciate the reviews and feedback on the chapter!

About this chapter...the stuff in italics are flashbacks...just thought I should mention that. Also, the chapter is a little dark...not in the overly descriptive, 'warning-you-may-not-like-this' sense...just darker themed.

okay, that's all...happy reading!

**Chapter 5**

Finding the room mentioned in the note took Angel only a few minutes. The library was rather small so there were only so many places to look. He'd eventually come across it in the back corner of the building. Instead of entering right away, though, he stood a few feet away for a minute while he gathered his thoughts.

The door to the room was open, but he couldn't hear any voices from inside. Angel was guessing that whoever had slipped him the note was waiting for him, and that he or she had something to tell him. What had the person meant when they'd said he wouldn't find what he was looking for? How did they know what he was looking for anyway? Hell, Angel wasn't even sure what he was trying to find.

He contemplated turning and walking away, leaving this mystery behind him. What was he doing? He was just a photographer; a simple guy wanting some peace and quiet after years of traveling. Now, all of the sudden he was seeing strange women on the beach, making enemies of the locals, and sitting in a library for hours trying to find answers when he didn't even know what the questions were. And now this, some strange person leaving him notes and wanting to talk to him. If he were smart, he would forget about all this and go about his business. It was too late for that, though. Whatever was going on had reeled him in. Perhaps if he hadn't been treated so rudely at the coffee shop hours early, he would have been able to ignore it all, but now he wanted to find out the answers, and the questions.

Taking a deep breath, Angel stepped toward the room and then into the open doorway. Inside, he saw two people standing there, watching him anxiously. One was a female in her early twenties with shoulder length red hair. Angel assumed she was the one who had tossed the note at him. The other was a man that looked slightly older than the female. He was of medium build and had strikingly odd bleached blonde hair.

Neither of them spoke so Angel decided to take the initiative. "Someone wanna tell me what the hell is going on?"

"Shhh!" the redhead hushed him, a panicked look crossing her face.

"For pete's sake, mate," the blonde snapped quietly, rushing over to Angel and pulling him further into the room. "Why don't you yell a little louder? And close the bloody door!"

Stunned, Angel watched as the man stuck his head out of the room quickly and then pulled it back. He closed the door before turning back to the female. "I don't think anybody heard him."

"Good," she sighed in relief, sinking down onto one of the four chairs that sat around a small circular table.

"I'm confused," Angel finally said when he'd shaken off the shock of their actions. "You wanted to talk to me and now you're telling me to shut up?"

"No, it's just...," she trailed off, looking to her companion for help.

"Ya see, no one can know we're talking to you," he explained vaguely.

"Me? What did I do?" a confused Angel asked.

"It's not like that, but people are already talking about how you were asking questions today and it would be better if they didn't know you were getting answers," the redhead continued.

"Um, okay," Angel drawled, still not really understanding.

"I know it's confusing. There's just more to this than you could possibly imagine and people get kinda...unhappy if it's brought up," she told him sadly.

"If we talk to you," the man said, looking at Angel sternly. "You have to keep this conversation to yourself. We could get in trouble."

Once again, the temptation to flee hit Angel. Something was telling him that whatever these two people knew was not going to be good and that maybe he was better off not knowing. He just couldn't seem to make himself leave though.

"Sure. I won't say anything," Angel agreed to their request.

"Good," she nodded. "Why don't you sit down?"

After he'd taken a seat, the female again looked to her friend before focusing on Angel. She sighed deeply, her hands twisting in her lap. Finally, she looked directly at Angel.

"I guess I should introduce myself. My name is Willow and this is my fiancé William." At the blonde's mumbled cough, she rolled her eyes. "He likes to be called Spike for whatever reason."

"It's, uh, nice to meet you. I'm Angel," he introduced himself.

"We know who you are, mate. The whole town is talking about you and your questions," the man, Spike, said.

"Why? I mean, all I did was ask a simple question," Angel replied, again confused by the uproar he'd apparently caused.

"It's the question you asked. We were there," Willow explained. "Spike and I co-own the coffee shop so we were there and saw what happened."

"Oh," Angel mumbled. "So why is asking about a woman walking on the beach near my house on the big list of things not to mention around here?"

"It's a long story," Willow answered, her voice trembling slightly. Before she spoke again, she reached into her purse and pulled something out. Her eyes watered as she stared at the object, but she quickly shook them off and slid it over to Angel. "Look familiar?"

Gazing down, Angel saw that it was a photograph. What caught his attention, though, was the beautiful blonde portrayed on the paper. She was absolutely stunning with long hair and big green eyes. Picking up the picture, Angel's mind flashed back to the woman he'd seen on the beach a few night's earlier. He hadn't seen her up close, but what he had seen of her matched the photo now in his hands.

"It looks like the woman I saw," he answered softly, still staring at the picture. There was something about her. He couldn't take his eyes off the sad smile that should have been bigger or the dulled eyes that he thought should have sparkled.

"I was afraid of that," Spike said with a sigh.

"What's her name?" Angel asked, sparing a glance at the two sitting across from him.

"Her name was Buffy," Willow supplied, a single tear slipping down her cheek.

"Was? I don't understand," Angel murmured, his full attention shifting to Willow and Spike.

"If you've seen her," Spike started, taking a hold of Willow's left hand. "Then you've seen Sunnydale's much loathed ghost."

"Ghost?" Angel gasped. "There's-."

"No such thing as ghosts?" Spike finished for him. "Whether there are or aren't, that's what people around here think she is."

"She's dead?" whispered Angel, eyes dropping down to the photo once again. His heart lurched at the thought of the beautiful woman in the picture being dead. He didn't even know her, but it bothered him to think she was dead.

"It's a long story," Willow answered, swiping at another tear that had begun to fall. "It's probably best if we start from the beginning."

"Okay," Angel agreed, tearing his eyes from the picture.

Willow took a deep breath, squeezing Spike's hand a bit harder before she started the story that would forever haunt her.

"We were juniors in High School, me, Buffy and the rest of our friends, when this all started. Well, Spike was a senior, but the rest of us were juniors. The school year was about halfway over and Buffy's seventeenth birthday was coming up so we decided to throw a surprise party for her," she began, her mind drifting back to that horrible time. "It was on a Tuesday, her birthday. We had school that day, but the party was going to be early that night. We...we..."

"_How are we gonna keep her out of the house until the party?" Faith Walker asked once she was sure that Buffy was no where around._

"_Don't worry, we've got that covered," Willow answered, hopping up on one of the desks in the empty classroom. "Spike has detention today and she agreed to stay and help him with his chemistry project while he was stuck there."_

"_Detention," Spike snorted, still pissed off at getting in trouble for driving his motorcycle down the hallway before school one morning._

_Willow rolled her eyes and held back a laugh. Typical Spike. "So that should keep her busy until we've got everything set up. Spike will get her to her house after his detention is over."_

"What happened?" Angel questioned when both hesitated to go on. He knew without them saying, though, that it was something horrible.

Spike's shoulders slumped and Willow choked back a sob. Seeing that his fiancé wouldn't be able to speak, Spike told the next part.

"_Damnit!" Spike cursed, storming out of the library. He was going to be in a load of trouble. Buffy had never shown up for their study session which meant she likely went home and found out about the party. The others were going to kill him._

_Stomping down the hall to the front door, he exited the building. He was almost to his motorcycle when he noticed Buffy's car parked a few feet away. Maybe he was saved. But if she was still in the school why hadn't she shown up? Deciding to find her, after all he still had to get her to the party, Spike turned and headed back to the building._

_Thirty minutes, and a quick search of the school, later, Spike was growing worried. He hadn't found Buffy anywhere, and his mind kept telling him it wasn't like her to not show up when they had plans._

_A noise to his left startled him and he saw the Principle rounding the corner. Not wanting to be accosted by the obnoxious man, Spike ducked into the nearest door, which happened to be to the girl's locker room. Amused by his luck, he took a few steps into the room, eyeing the place few men got to go in._

_Seeing nothing particularly interesting, after all school was over for the day and no half-naked females were prancing about, he was about to leave when he thought he heard something coming from the back. He took several steps in that direction when he heard it again. It sounded like a quiet cry, and for reasons he couldn't explain, it made his stomach twists in knots._

_Before he knew what he was doing, Spike was dashing through the rows of lockers to the back of the room. What he found when he rounded the last corner was something he would never forget._

"_Oh God, Buffy!" he screamed at the sight of her beaten, trembling body. The torn shirt and hiked up skirt told him enough, but it was the dried blood on her thighs that confirmed what he already suspected._

"She'd been raped," Spike whispered tearfully, the image still burned in his memory.

"No," Angel rasped, eyes shooting to the picture as he now knew what caused the sad look on her beautiful face.

This time it was Spike who couldn't seem to go on explaining. Willow bowed her head for a moment before she continued the story.

"She had stayed after school and planned to meet Spike like she was supposed to, but first she decided to check out the swim meet," Willow said, a harsh laugh following. "She'd had a huge crush on the star of the swim team so she'd wanted to at least catch the end of the match."

"She never made it to detention," Spike filled in the already known detail.

"What happened? Did they catch who did it?" Angel asked, hoping that the bastard who had hurt her had been punished.

"Cameron Walker," Willow spat out the name.

"The captain of the swim team," Spike added in an equally hateful tone.

"What?" Angel gasped, putting together the pieces of what they'd said.

"Yeah. He'd decided to use her crush to his advantage, only when she said 'no' he didn't stop," she stated angrily.

"They caught him, right? I mean you said you know who did it," Angel questioned, needing to know more of the twisted tale.

"That's the funny thing," Willow laughed though there was no amusement in the sound. "When your daddy is the police chief it seems you can get away with anything, even rape."

"He got away with it?" repeated Angel in shock. How was something like that possible? Well, he knew it was. Stuff like that happened everyday. Still...

"He did, barely even blemished his image," Spike confirmed harshly.

"That was only the beginning of it all," Willow said, glancing at the picture of her friend resting on the table in front of Angel. "It only got worse after that."

TBC


	7. Chapter 6

_AN: gotta say thanks again to all of you here at 'the-site-which-cannot-be-named' (cuz for some dumb reason the PTB here won't let you print the site's name)...anyway...thank you to all of you HERE for all the wonderful reviews you've been leaving!_

**Chapter 6**

"There's more?" How could there possibly be anything worse than what he'd already been told had happened to the young woman whose sad green eyes stared up at him from the picture on the table? Being raped was bad enough, but then to have her assailant, a classmate she'd had a crush on, go free was even worse.

"Unfortunately," Willow mumbled softly. She rubbed a hand over her face, trying to gather the strength to continue the story about events she'd lived through with her best friend. "Buffy never really recovered from what happened. Well, not really. Physically she healed quickly, and I think things would have been okay after while, but..."

"But he got away with it," Angel completed her train of thought. He could already imagine how that would have affected her. First, she was viciously attacked, and then the bastard wasn't even punished.

"Yeah," Spike said with a nod. "But it's worse than even what you're thinking, though."

"Cameron Walker was like a hero in this town," Willow once again took the reigns of the conversation. "He was a star athlete, smart, likable, and he was the police chief's son. People didn't want to believe he'd done it. And add to that the police chief's best friend, our very own mayor, lending his support to Cameron."

"It got real ugly real quick," Spike supplied, shaking his head at the events from years ago. "Buffy had always been popular in school and in town. She was funny, friendly, and well, as you can see from the picture, no hardship to look at. But when going up against the power people of this town, she was nothing."

"Everyone pointed their self righteous fingers at her," Willow continued on. "The medical exam and DNA tests proved that she'd...well, Cameron's sperm was detected, but it was a pretty much a 'he said-she said' sort of deal on what happened between them. And everyone believed him."

"He said it was consensual, said she'd wanted it rough," Spike bit out, barely containing the rage he felt.

"It wasn't consensual," Willow stated adamantly. "Buffy had been a virgin, and she took sex seriously. She always said she wanted to wait until she was in a serious relationship."

Though he never knew Buffy, Angel felt his eyes watering at her pain. He felt for what she must have gone through. She'd been violently attacked by a class mate, and what was worse it was her first sexual experience. Not that that made it different than what another woman might have gone through, but he could imagine the scars that would leave on a young girl.

"Everyone rallied around Cameron, and they ostracized Buffy," she explained further, her hands twisting continuously in her lap. "They said she was a slut, or that she was getting back at him for having sex with her but not dating her. It was awful."

Spike placed a comforting hand on Willow's back. The memories of what had happened weren't easy for either of them. Dragging them up again and telling them to Angel wasn't helping, but they'd both felt it was better he get than answers to his questions from them rather than asking around town. They knew very well how people treated anything related to Buffy. If he'd kept asking, Angel would have put himself in a very bad position.

"She was harassed at school, on the streets. Anywhere she went she was a target," Spike went on.

"It took its toll on her. She tried to be strong, and she never gave up hope that people would eventually believe her." Willow shook her head, knowing they should have known better. But they'd been young and idealistic. "Any of her friends who stuck with her became enemies of the town, too," she said with a thin smile, remembering her own harassment. "Then things got worse."

Worse, Angel thought. How could this situation possibly get any worse? What more had this poor girl been subjected to?

"She started getting phone calls all the time. Sometimes they'd say nothing, sometimes they were obscene. And then the visits started," Spike explained while Willow again tried to compose herself. "She said she'd wake up in the middle of the night and there would be someone on her room. Her parents forced the police to investigate."

"But they never found anything," Angel assumed, guessing that the police were loyal to their chief, and by turn, the chief's son.

"Right," Spike nodded in agreement. "It kept on like that for two years after the rape, people following her, calling her. Just constant harassment."

"Buffy closed in on herself," Willow supplied, remembering how she'd seen her friend turn from a bright, cheery girl, to a quiet, fearful young woman. "She was afraid of everything. She stopped going to school and barely left the house. She was petrified of going out during the daytime." She shook her head, closing her eyes for a moment. "I know that sounds strange, but she seemed to associate the rape with daytime. If she went out then, people would be able to see her."

"The few times we could get her to go out, it would only be at night," Spike added in. "She thought it would allow her to blend in to the shadows better and that people wouldn't notice her."

The logic of that was weird, but Angel could understand it. He would have imagined that someone who'd be sexually assaulted would be afraid to go out at night because someone could sneak up on her easier, but in her situation he could see how she'd think she could hide when it was dark out.

"People started saying she was crazy, in a literal sense," Willow continued. "They said she was making it all up, or imagining things. It just never stopped."

Spike pulled Willow closer to him as she let loose a choked sob. He rubbed her back as he looked to Angel. "I suppose in the end, it did drive her a little crazy, but not like they say it did."

"She couldn't handle it all," Willow said with a sniffle. "And the people's opinion of her only got worse after she attacked a group of guys."

"Attacked?" Angel repeated in the form of a question.

Willow knew how it sounded. It would be hard for anyone, even someone who'd only ever seen a picture of Buffy to imagine her attacking anyone, so she explained. "We'd gotten her to go out for coffee one night. We'd just gone inside the café when she remembered she'd left her purse in the car." She paused, lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. "I offered to get it for her, but she said she'd do it. I think she was trying to prove she was strong and could handle it. Next thing we knew, people were screaming that there was a fight outside and that 'Buffy the psycho' was attacking people."

"She told us later that they'd said obscene things to her and cornered her by the car," she went on. "The guys, though, claimed they were just walking down the sidewalk when for no reason Buffy came at them." A mirthless laugh escaped.

"Everyone believed them," Angel posed what he was thinking.

"Yeah," Spike confirmed, his lips curling in a snarl. "Bloody awful it was. They pressed charges against her and they stuck. What no one bothered to pay attention to was that the guys were all Cameron's cronies. She got a police record and a hefty fine out of it. The worst was that everyone started saying she was insane and violent and that she should be put away somewhere before she really hurt someone."

"That was kinda the last straw for her," Willow said softly. "I don't think she ever left the house again."

There was a lapse in the conversation and Angel took the time to think about all he'd heard. He wondered what had happened to Buffy. They'd said she was dead. Had she killed herself? If she had, he couldn't blame her. He didn't think suicide was the answer to one's problems, but he could understand why she would have done it. There was only so much a person could take before they broke.

What kind of town was this, he questioned silently. Some poor girl is raped and everyone turns on her. It was the stuff nightmares were made out of. Only this wasn't some bad dream. This was reality. And Buffy, the pretty young girl's whose picture sat in front of him had lived it all, along with the two people on the other side of the table.

"Then..." Willow released a shuddering breath, her hand gripping Spike's so tight that he winced. "Then in July of 2000..."

July of 2000? Angel's ears perked up at that. He thought about the newspaper archives he'd been looking through when Willow's note had all but landed in his lap. Hadn't the first missing newspaper article he'd found been from that time? It only took him a moment to deduce that the articles that had been torn out related to Buffy. That was the obvious conclusion considering everything Spike and Willow had told him.

"The articles," Angel muttered under his breath.

"What?" asked Willow, giving him an odd stare.

"In the newspaper archives...a lot of articles were torn out and they were from that time," he clarified what he'd found.

"I'm not surprised," Spike mumbled to himself.

"What happened?" Angel demanded. It had to be pretty bad. He knew that somehow.

Willow opened her mouth as if to answer, but then closed it quickly. She shook her head, closing her eyes against the harsh reality of the events of that day. Slowly, her right hand reached up to tuck a few loose strands of hair behind her ear. Then, finally, after a few more seconds of silence, she told him.

"Her brother, sister, and mother were murdered," she spoke, barely audible.

Angel nearly fell out of his chair after straining to hear her words. Murdered? That was just completely unimaginable. Things like that didn't happen in small towns like Sunnydale. But hadn't what he'd already heard told him this town was anything but peaceful? He wanted to speak, to say something, but he couldn't. And from the looks Spike and Willow were sharing, he could tell that there was something else yet unsaid.

"Her father found the bodies when he got home from work." This time it was Spike who talked, turning his face away to hide his tears. "Buffy had been home that night, but...but they never found her."

"What-what do you mean they never found her?" Angel managed to utter, his mind a whirl of confusion and pain for the young girl.

"The bodies of her family were there, but Buffy just vanished," Willow elucidated, her voice raspy. "There was no trace of her."

Grimacing at the revelation, Angel tried to understand how a woman could just vanish. Why would her family be found and not her? What had happened to Buffy?

"Do they think she was killed too?" he asked, coming to what was to him the obvious conclusion.

Both Willow and Spike quickly averted their eyes, telling Angel that the answer wasn't that simple. He thought he heard Spike mutter 'if only.' But that only confused him more.

"What?" he demanded.

"The police...they investigated," Willow began, her voice harsh and bitter. "But they...they closed the case after only a few weeks. They...they concluded that Buffy had...had killed her family in a fit of insane rage."

Angel's mouth dropped open, thoroughly shocked at the newest turn of events. It was almost too much to believe. He felt like he was watching a suspense movie and not hearing the true story of the life of a beautiful young woman. Before he could object to the claim, Spike interrupted.

"We knew she could never do something like that," Spike stated, agreeing with Angel's internal thoughts. "But the town's people jumped on it. They already hated her, and said she was nuts. To them, it just proved they were right."

"They said she killed them," Willow continued. "And that afterwards, when she'd realized what she'd done, she'd killed herself by jumping off the cliffs by her house."

"You don't believe she did?" Angel asked He didn't know what to think. Looking at the picture of Buffy, he could never imagine her as having killed her own family. Of course, he'd never met her, but just from listening to the way her friends talked about her he could tell she was a good person who'd been dealt some horrible cards in life. If she hadn't done what people accused her of, though, then what had happened to her?

"No, none of us thought she killed them or herself, but," she shrugged, "she was never seen after that day."

"Except for the ghost," Angel said what they were all thinking.

Willow said nothing, but her eyes met Angel's. She didn't have to say what was on her mind. He knew instantly what she suspected. Something, though, kept any of them from actually voicing the train of thought.

"Right," Spike drawled out.

"In the four years since it happened, several people have claimed to have seen her. The locals say she haunts the area, waiting to take revenge on everyone," Willow practically spat, her disgust clearly evident. "But she's pretty much a taboo topic around here. People prefer to never have her mentioned at all."

"Which is why I got the cold shoulder this morning," assumed Angel.

"Got it in one," Spike laughed mirthlessly.

"So, what? People just ignore that it ever happened and go about their lives?" Angel bit out, angry that the residents of this town could be so callous.

"For the most part," said Willow. "None of us will ever forget it, but most people care not to think about it."

"So you're saying I should just forget what I saw?" Angel questioned in disbelief. How was he supposed to ignore that he had seen a ghost...or possibly something else entirely?

Again, Willow gave him a look, telling him with her eyes what she was unwilling to say with words. She didn't want him to forget it. She wanted to know what he'd seen. But more so, she wanted to know the truth. He could only imagine how the lies and horrors of her friend forever haunted her. So he nodded, accepting her unbidden request to keep his eyes open for anything he might see.

"All we're saying is to keep your mouth shut. If you don't want to make enemies here, you'll not talk about it in public," Spike requested, and Angel could tell that he, too, was more than curious about the so-called ghost that haunted the beach near his house.

"Right," he agreed. It made sense. As angry and disturbed as he was by all that he'd heard, Angel had no desire to actively stir up trouble. Still...if he saw something...well, he wouldn't exactly turn the other way.

"We have to go," Willow said, rising from her seat. "Here's our number...," she trailed off, leaving Angel to assume she wanted to know if he saw anything.

Angel rose, too, and accepted the piece of paper she had in her hand. "Thank you, for telling me."

"You're welcome." She nodded sadly at him before leaving with Spike.

**

* * *

**

**TBC!**


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Sleep did not come easily for Angel that night. The story – story, he snorted, this was no fairytale - Willow and Spike had told him continuously echoed in his head, reminding him of the grisly life led by an unassuming, young, blonde woman. Over and over he recalled what they'd told him: the rape, her attacker not being punished, the way the townspeople turned against her, her merciless harassment, and then later the murders of her family and her own disappearance.

What had happened that night? She couldn't possibly have killed her own family, could she? He'd never met her, barely knew much about her, but something told him that she would not have brutally slaughtered her family. If she hadn't, then what happened to her, and who had killed her family? Angel wondered if maybe she'd seen the vicious slayings of her family and run, or maybe she really had thrown herself off the cliffs as a means of escape, mental and physical.

Then what about the woman he'd seen on the beach? He supposed it could have been a dog, or a trick of light, but his gut feeling told him it was a person. Was there such thing as ghosts? Could the thing he'd seen on the beach be her ghost? Logical reasoning told him that ghosts didn't exist, but then what other explanation could there be for what others, and he himself, had seen?

What bothered Angel the most, though, was his growing obsession with this mystery. Why did he care at all? This had absolutely nothing to do with him, other than what he'd seen on the beach twice now. He should just mind his own business. He'd come to this town to relax and have some quiet time, not to get involved in a volatile situation.

The image of Buffy's face smiling sadly at him from the photograph wouldn't let him forget. The poor girl had been wronged in every way possible. Even now, after her assumed death, she was still hated and betrayed. Where was the justice in what had been done to her? Where was the compassion? There hadn't been any for her. She'd been a victim of power, loyalty, and corruption.

This was all in the past, though. He couldn't change anything. Could he? Did he want to? Getting involved seemed blatantly stupid. But how wrong was it to do nothing?

Angel shook his head and flipped onto his back on the bed. What the hell was he thinking? It wasn't like he knew anything anyway. All he'd done was see some unknown shape on the beach that looked like a person. That information constituted nothing. He needed to just forget what he'd seen and been told. Yes, that was what he needed to do.

Throwing his head back in frustration, Angel yawned and then glanced at the clock on his nightstand. It was nearly four in the morning. Great, he thought. He had to be up at seven to be at the university at eight to start shooting the Chumash artifacts for the magazine article. He needed to get some sleep or he was going to be completely useless tomorrow.

Angel flipped over onto his stomach, burying his face in his pillow and pulling the blankets up over his head in hopes of blocking out the haunting thoughts. Finally, nearly a half hour later, he managed to fall into a restless sleep.

* * *

Early the next evening, Angel staggered tiredly into his house, immensely glad to see the renovators had already left for the day. He wandered into the living room, carefully dropping his camera bag onto the couch. As he walked toward the kitchen, he pulled off his dress shirt, tired of having worn it all day, leaving him in a white tank top.

He hadn't planned on being out so long, but after taking some pictures at the university he'd stopped by the magazine office to talk with Giles about the article. That short trip had ended three hours later, and now he was exhausted. And starving, which was why he was now digging through his refrigerator looking for something to eat.

As he sat at the table in the kitchen, his mind drifted back to Buffy and her shattered life. He'd been so busy that day that he hadn't had a chance to think about her, but now that he was sitting in his kitchen alone with his thoughts, she was back on his mind. Angel only hoped that his utter exhaustion was enough to keep her from impinging on his sleep again.

Dumping his plate in the sink, he walked back to the living room. He stopped when he saw his camera bag, a sudden idea occurring to him. Without thinking too much about it, he grabbed the bag and then climbed the stairs all the way up to the attic.

Once there, he set the bag down and walked over to one of the boxes of stuff he had yet to unpack. Pulling out one of his tripods, he paused for a second and wondered what the hell he was doing. Instead of stopping, though, he carried the metal object over to the door to the balcony.

Angel propped the door open with a heavy book and then set the tripod up just inside the attic so that it was protected from the weather. After getting it situated, he removed his camera from the bag and put in a fresh roll of thirty-six exposure film. He fiddled with the settings so that it would take a picture every half hour before attaching it to the tripod and focusing it down onto the beach below.

Having completed the crazy task, Angel backed away a step. He stared at the set-up and again questioned his sanity for what he was doing. With a shake of his head, he left it there, and quickly retreated to his bedroom, determined to go get some sleep. If he was lucky, his sheer exhaustion would keep thoughts of a green-eyed blonde out of his mind

* * *

Someone shaking him woke Angel the following morning. His eyes snapped open as he grabbed at the obnoxious person's wrist, halting their movement. Looking up, he saw one of the construction workers trying to back away from the bed.

"What the hell are you doing in my room?" he demanded, glaring at the intruder.

"I'm sorry, Mr. O'Meara," the man apologized quickly. "But there is some guy downstairs with a delivery truck wanting to speak to you."

"Did he say what he wanted," Angel bit out in annoyance.

"N-no," he stuttered, slightly wary of his boss. "He just said he wanted to talk to you."

"Fine. I'll be down in a minute," groaned Angel before glancing at the clock. He was shocked to see it was almost eleven in the morning. Somehow he'd managed to sleep through the entire night and most of the morning despite the workers being present.

Angel waited for the worker to leave his room before climbing out of bed and throwing on whatever he could find to wear. Upon descending the stairs and seeing who was waiting for him, he sighed loudly, already knowing it was going to be a long morning.

* * *

Four hours later, the relatively minor catastrophe had been dealt with, but not without some yelling and diverting of construction workers to handle the situation. The delivery man that had shown up that morning had been there to deliver Angel's new Jacuzzi, a Jacuzzi that hadn't been meant to be delivered for another two weeks. Some sort of paper work mix up, though, had it waiting virtually on his doorstep this morning.

He had tried to get the man to take the hot tub back, but that was an unsuccessful venture. So instead, a few of the renovators had to be sequestered to clean off the back patio to make room for the large object. Then, they'd all run around like monkey's with their heads cut off trying to get the damn thing set up properly. If Angel hadn't been so annoyed by it all he would have found it funny.

Now, as Angel stood on the back patio staring at the expensive monstrosity, he couldn't help but laugh over the fact that he'd even bought it in the first place. It was a guilty pleasure, he supposed. Having spent most of his time traveling in years past, plus living in a condo, he'd never been able to have one. So he'd bought the thing on a whim, thinking it would be a nice way to relax. He could have done without all the hassle it caused, though.

Angel considered testing out the new hot tub, but before he could, the phone rang. Trudging back through the house and into the kitchen, he grabbed the cordless phone.

"Hello?"

"Umm, hi. Is this Angel?" the caller asked.

"Yeah. Who is this?"

"Oh! Hi, Angel. It's Willow," she chirped.

"Hi, Willow. I wasn't expecting to hear from you," Angel said, taking a seat at one of the chairs next to the counter.

"Sorry for the out of the blue call. Spike and I were wondering if you wanted to get together for dinner. We figured you probably don't know many people around here and might want some company," she babbled on.

"Umm, sure. But, uh..." He looked down at his attire, which consisted of track pants, a t-shirt, and bare feet. "I'm not really dressed to go out so why don't you two come here. I can order some pizzas"

"Sure. That sounds good," she agreed. "Is there anything you want us to bring?"

"No-,' he started to say then quickly remembered that he hadn't been able to get out of the house since early afternoon. He'd managed to make a quick run to a deli for sandwiches for the workers as compensation for the hot tub debacle, and he'd also stopped to drop off the film he'd set up in his camera the night before. Normally, he preferred to develop his own film, but he hadn't yet been able to set up a dark room. "Wait, could you possibly stop and pick up some film I dropped off to get developed this morning?"

"Yeah, sure," Willow answered, her tone curious.

"Great, thanks. I'll pay you back for the costs," Angel said swiftly, suddenly feeling anxious. He gave Willow the name of the shop he'd dropped off the film. If she was curious as to why he'd chosen a place on the outskirts of town, she didn't ask.

* * *

Just as Angel was carrying the delivered pizzas into the kitchen, the doorbell rang again. He set the boxes down and walked back to the front door. As expected, Willow and Spike were waiting on the other side.

"Hi!" Willow greeted with a smile. "I hope we're not late, or early."

"No," Angel shook his head, grinning at the redhead's babbling. He'd only met Willow once, but he already liked her. Spike seemed like a good guy, too, though Angel had to admit he wouldn't have pictured the two of them together. "The pizzas just got here."

"Oh, good," she breathed a sigh of relief.

Spike whistled as he entered the house along with Willow. "Wow, quite a house you got here."

"Yeah," Angel laughed. "It's been a pain to get livable again, though."

"I can imagine," sympathized Willow, setting her purse down on the entryway table. "It looks good."

"Thanks. The pizza is in the kitchen," he pointed in the direction of the food.

The three sat and ate while chatting and getting to know each other, talking about their jobs, hobbies, and anything else pertinent. Angel found himself liking the pair more and more as the meal drew on. He was surprised to discover that Spike shared his interest in old poetry, but as Angel came to realize, much of Spike's bad-boy exterior was just an image. He was a nice guy at heart, and from his actions, Angel could tell the bleached blonde loved his girlfriend very much.

They had finished eating and were sharing a bottle of wine when the doorbell rang again. Angel's brow furrowed as he glanced at the clock and wondered who could possibly be visiting him at eight in the evening. He didn't really know many people in town so he couldn't fathom who could be at his door.

Standing, and giving his apologies to his guests, Angel walked through the house to the front door. Opening it, he was even more confused to see a young man standing there, fidgeting nervously. It took Angel several seconds to recognize him.

"Um, Xander. Right?" he asked slowly.

"Yeah. Look, I'm sorry for just coming by, but I was hoping I could talk to you," Xander requested hesitantly.

"I sort of have company right now," explained Angel, glancing to where Willow and Spike were waiting.

"Please," Xander pleaded, taking a step forward. "It'll only take a minute."

"Sure, I guess. Let me just tell them I'll be back in a few minutes," Angel said then turned and headed back to the kitchen, not realizing that Xander was following him.

"I've got to talk to someone for a few minutes," Angel started to say as he entered the kitchen. "It shouldn't take long, but you don't have to wait if you don't want to."

"Xander!" Willow suddenly gasped, having seen the young man trailing behind Angel.

"Willow? Spike?" Xander spoke, giving a shake of his head. "Why am I not surprised to find you two here?"

"You know each other?" a confused Angel asked.

"Umm, yeah," mumbled Xander in response.

"We went to high school together," Willow added, leaving Angel to make his own assumptions, which he did. It was abundantly clear to him that Xander knew Buffy and her situation. What he didn't know was what role the young man played in all of it.

* * *

TBC 


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8

* * *

**

For a long silent minute Angel simply stared at Willow, Spike and Xander, who were all busy staring at each other. If he wasn't mistaken, there was an undercurrent of anger between them. He had a sudden urge to pull out his hair and run far, far away from whatever the hell he'd managed to get himself involved in.

"Look," Xander began, finally breaking the silence and turning to Angel guiltily. "I just wanted to stop by to say I'm sorry about what happened yesterday morning."

"Oh..uh, okay," Angel said, stumbling slightly over his words. He hadn't expected the young man to say that.

"I shouldn't have acted that way, but there are things you don't know," explained Xander evasively.

"We told him," Willow interrupted, cluing her old high school friend in to what Angel now knew.

"You what?" he asked slowly. "All of it? Why?"

The redhead shrugged, meeting Xander's eyes. "He deserved to know. We saw what happened at the coffee shop. If he's going to live here, he should know about what these people are like."

Xander didn't miss the hostility in her words. Another pang of guilt shot through him as he remembered everything that had happened years earlier. An image of Buffy's smiling face appeared in his mind which only served to make him feel worse.

"Xander...," Willow said softly, seeing the look on her friend's face. She knew what he was thinking about.

"Don't say it, Willow," he pleaded, holding a hand up to cease whatever she'd planned on saying.

"You know I'm right," she pushed, standing and walking toward him.

"No," Xander replied with a shake of his head. "What I know is that I abandoned my friend when she needed me the most."

"You did what you had to," Willow corrected him.

"Umm...I feel like I'm missing something," Angel interrupted, lost as to what the two were talking about.

Before explaining, Willow glanced at Xander. He gave a slight nod of his head, signaling that it was okay for her to tell Angel what they were talking about.

"We were all friends in high school," she began, once again taking a seat at the table. "Xander, Buffy and I were really close. We'd known each other since pre-school."

When Willow paused, not sure how to continue, Xander took over. "When Buffy was...was raped," he choked out the word as if it were poison. "I was on the swim team, and I was also dating Cameron Walker's sister, Faith."

"Oh," Angel breathed out heavily, sinking down onto one of the chairs nearby. He already had an idea of where this was going.

"Yeah," snorted Xander, seeing where Angel's thoughts were leading him. "Let me tell you what a fun position that was not. I was screwed no matter what I did."

"You didn't stand by her," Angel assumed, eyeing Xander with distrust.

"I did. At first, but then Faith left. As in left town. About two weeks after the...well, she was sent to the east coast to live with her Mom. She never even said goodbye, or why she left," he relayed, still feeling the sting of having lost someone he cared about.

"So you just abandoned your best friend?" Angel bit out hotly. What kind of friend would do something like that, he wondered.

"No, not from that. See, like I said, I was on the swimming team and I was pretty good. My family was poor and swimming was going to be my way to get into college," Xander explained, his voice low and sad. "My grades weren't too good so a sports scholarship was my only chance, but Cameron and the rest of the guys on the team weren't too happy with me sticking by Buffy. They started threatening me, and hassling me. That was when I started to distance myself from Buffy."

Seeing Angel's disturbed look, Xander sighed. "I know you're thinking that I should have stuck by her, no matter what. But you don't know what it was like. All I'd ever wanted was to get away from my family, to be somebody, and my only chance was hanging by a string controlled by Cameron. So I caved and all but ignored one of my best friends."

"And got to go to college," Angel deduced out loud.

A loud, unhappy laugh sounded from Xander at Angel's conclusion. "No, I didn't. I guess I pissed off Cameron too much because I was kicked off the team anyway. Some phony story was concocted about me using steroids. And, well, no college would take me on scholarship after that"

"God," Angel spat in an almost growl. "I thought this kind of shit only happened in the movies and on tv."

"You'd think so," Spike said, sighing loudly. "But that's what we've lived. Some people just like to abuse their power."

Angel slumped back in his chair, running a hand over his face. He was utterly shocked at the corruption and abuse of power that these people were telling him about. Not only had Buffy suffered immensely, possibly leading to her death, but others had as well. Though he wasn't sure he agreed with Xander's actions, they were understandable. The young man had lost his only chance to better his life. Angel wondered what revenge had been sought against Willow and Spike. They hadn't told him anything, but he knew they must have been on plenty of people's bad sides.

Just as he was about to ask Willow that question, Xander spoke again. "Did you really see her?"

"What?" Angel asked, confused by the change of direction.

"Buffy. You said you saw the ghost," he clarified.

"Oh,...OH!" Angel exclaimed loudly, jumping out of his seat. "The pictures!"

"Huh?" Spike grunted.

"Willow, did you pick up those pictures?" questioned Angel eagerly.

"Uh, yeah. Why?" she asked slowly, dazed somewhat by Angel's abrupt request.

"Can I have them?" he said instead of answering.

"Sure." Willow quickly dashed out of the room and retrieved her purse from the foyer.

Once she returned, she pulled the paper package out of the bag and handed it to Angel. He said nothing, just took the photos from her and sat down silently at the table. The others watched as he tore open the envelope and pulled the pictures out, wondering what was so important about them. Their curiosity only grew when Angel's face suddenly went pale and his eyes wide.

"Angel?" Willow spoke cautiously.

He looked up at the three friends, opened his mouth to speak, but closed it quickly. His eyes went back down to the pictures. Slowly, he pulled out three of the photos and laid them out on the table.

"Look," he told them, pointing to the pictures.

All three hurried to the table, anxious to see what had stunned Angel. Willow gasped at the images, holding a hand up to her mouth. Xander stumbled back a few steps, his eyes not wanting to believe what they were seeing. The last of the group, Spike, could only stare at pictures.

"Buffy," Spike mumbled, picking up one of the three pictures.

Each image was similar as they were all taken of the same area. The first one showed a figure, pale and barely visible, emerging from the woods that lined the beach. The second showed the same figure, this time clearly depicting a female body, standing a few feet past where she was in the first. And in the third and final picture, it showed her standing along the waterline, staring out at the ocean.

In the last two, it was clear as day that the mysterious thing Angel had seen on the beach was a person, a female with blonde hair. Just like Buffy. Though none of them could make out any facial features or anything else to make a clear identification, the other similarities to the missing girl were striking.

"It m-might not be h-her," Willow stuttered, finding it hard to face something she'd only heard rumors about.

"Is...is that the g-ghost?" Xander asked in equal shock.

"I don't think that's a ghost," alleged Angel. Logical reasoning told him such things as ghosts didn't exist. But even so, the figure was too clear, and if he wasn't mistaken, she was wearing something different than the first time he'd seen her. Ghosts didn't change their close...did they?

Xander's head whipped around to face Angel. "What are you saying?"

"It might be her. Buffy might not be dead," said Willow, finally voicing the suspicion that she and Spike had had for quite some time.

"Oh boy," Xander muttered, stumbling over to one of the chairs.

"This doesn't prove anything," Spike pointed out the obvious.

"No, but it's the first clue we've had as to what happened to her, and I'm not going to forget about it," Willow stated firmly.

"Willow...," Spike said cautiously.

"Don't say it!" she hissed at him. "I'm not just gonna push it out of my mind. This has gone on too long!"

"Do you really want to stir this up again, Will?" asked Xander, facing his long-time friend. "Don't you remember what it was like before?"

Willow crossed her arms over her chest and glared at both Spike and Xander. "I'm not saying we go running around telling what's in these pictures," she jabbed a finger toward them. "But I want to know if this is really Buffy. I NEED to know if this is her."

"What do you want to do?" Angel spoke up for the first time in a while.

"Angel," Willow said, tilting her head slightly as she looked at him. "Why are you getting involved in this?

"I...I don't know, honestly. I want to help, though," he pleaded, thinking about the picture of Buffy he'd seen and of all she'd been through. If he could do something for her, he would. That was the right thing to do, wasn't it?

"Are you sure, mate?" Spike inquired. He knew they were about to start some serious trouble, but he also knew he needed to do whatever possible for Buffy. They were friends, after all. "If people find out we're lookin' in to this it could start a lot of shit."

Angel gazed down at the photographs on the table, taking in the solitary figure standing on the beach. "Yes, I'm sure."

"Count me in," Xander added. He hadn't done what he should have years ago. Now, he might have the chance to make up for it. If he could help Buffy, he would.

"Well, now that that is settled, anyone got any ideas?" Spike posed with a frown, wondering what the hell they were supposed to do now.

Glancing down at the pictures, Angel thought for a moment. "Well, first I'm going to try to find a dark room to use tomorrow." At the perplexed looks from the other, he clarified. "I'm going to see if I can blow up, and crop these three so maybe you guys can tell for sure if it is her."

"It is," Willow stated definitively. "I know it is."

* * *

Later that night, Angel sat at his desk staring at his laptop. His fingers tapped over the keys as he searched through the internet trying to find information on the murder of Buffy's family. He figured if he was going to get involved in this, he might as well get all the information straight. He no longer bothered to question his sanity about his involvement. It was too late to back himself out now.

Angel considered looking for an online archive of the local newspaper, but knowing how loyalties in this town ran he figured they might not be the most objective. So instead he decided to try looking up newspaper archives from Los Angeles. Sunnydale was close enough to LA that there had probably been coverage in the LA papers. He wasn't sure, though, that he'd find anything since the murders had happened four years earlier, but it was worth a try.

Almost immediately, he found several articles matching his search criteria. Clicking on the first link, he read the article that appeared on the screen.

"_Local police in Sunnydale, California have officially closed the case of a triple murder that occurred there four weeks ago. On July 19, the bodies of three people; Joyce Giles, 48, Owen Giles, 19, and Dawn Giles, 16, were found brutally stabbed to death in their home. A fourth occupant of the house, Buffy Giles, 20, has been missing since the homicides. _

_After a thorough investigation, police have come to the conclusion that the case is a murder-suicide committed by the Giles' eldest child, Buffy. Townspeople interviewed stated that Buffy was a mentally unstable young woman, and none seemed surprised by the recent tragic turn of events. It is suspected that Buffy Giles killed her family and then jumped from the nearby cliffs to her death in the rocky ocean below..."_

"Buffy Giles?" Angel murmured out loud, gaping at his computer screen.

Buffy's last name was Giles? As in Rupert Giles, his boss? Angel thought this situation couldn't shock him anymore, but this newest piece of information had him completely and utterly stunned.

* * *

**TBC**


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Sleep. That was what he should have been doing. But as had happened a lot lately, the elusive dreamland could not be found. He'd been in this town, what, a week, two weeks? And it seemed like he slept less and less each day. It wasn't as though he didn't want to sleep. It was just that whenever he tried, visions of a smiling blonde girl invaded his mind along with the words Spike, Willow, and Xander had spoken to him.

To say he wasn't disturbed by it all would be a lie. The situation itself was horrifying. There was also the part, though, where he'd somehow managed to get dragged into it all. Well, maybe dragged wasn't the right word. He hadn't exactly put up much of a resistance. Still, that didn't tell him why he hadn't just forgotten about it as he had been ordered to do in the coffee shop, and why he couldn't stop thinking about the blonde girl named Buffy.

Angel told himself he was only getting involved to help right a wrong, that he was doing what any morally correct person would do. But were those the sole reasons? He could lie to himself and say yes, but that wasn't the truth. It was Buffy, the young woman he'd never even met, that had him enraptured.

Sure, she was beautiful on the outside, but something told him she was just as much so on the inside. She had to have immeasurable inner strength to have survived what she did after the rape. Could she somehow still be alive? And if she was, what had happened that night in her family's house? That was the million dollar question, he supposed.

Regardless, he couldn't do anything about it tonight, and he certainly wouldn't be able to do anything at all if he didn't start getting some sleep. With that in mind, Angel shifted onto his side, hoping that sleep would finally come.

* * *

His watch showed that it was barely seven-thirty in the morning when Angel dragged himself into the magazine's office building. He'd gotten no more than three hours of sleep the night before. Too much on his mind. So when he'd awoken at the crack of dawn he'd simply rolled out of bed instead of trying to get another hour's sleep. Plus, he had things he wanted to do.

The building was practically empty this early, which suited Angel just fine. He didn't want anyone questioning what he was doing. Not that they would have any reason to really. He was a photographer, and he had every right to use the magazine's dark room for an hour or two. Even so, it would be best that no one questioned him, or asked why he was at work an hour and a half before he normally arrived.

With sure steps, he walked down the hall toward the darkroom. In his pocket, his fingers were running over the negatives of the film he'd had developed the day before. Time would tell what he would find once he blew three of the shots up to larger sizes and cropped them down on the single figure that walked the beach late at night.

* * *

An hour and a half later, Angel stood in the darkroom holding one of the shots that he'd worked on enlarging. On the photo in his hands stood a petite blonde woman, her gaze staring out over the sea. The details were fuzzy, and the face only showed a side view, but Angel had little doubt. The woman, the mysterious figure who walked the beach, was Buffy.

But what did that mean? If the figure was really Buffy, had he photographed a ghost? Or was Buffy really still alive? Each choice was baffling, to say the least. Idly, Angel wondered if her being a ghost would have made things much simpler, because if she were actually alive, it left so many questions that needed some very serious answers.

How was she still alive? Had she killed her family? Where was she living? Why did she walk the beach at night? And what the hell did Giles know about all this?

Angel slipped the three photos he'd worked on into a folder and left the darkroom. He needed to call Willow and set up a meeting with her and the others. As he walked toward his office, he firmly pushed aside the voice inside his head that told him he was in way over his head.

He was almost to his office door when he heard someone calling his name. Turning, Angel found himself facing the very last person he wanted to see at that moment. Giles. And he was holding pictures of the man's supposedly dead daughter in a folder in his hand. Great. Just great.

"Good morning, Angel. You're in early today," Giles stated as he walked up to Angel.

An excuse. He needed an excuse. "I needed to do some work on the Chumash article," he improvised.

"Oh?" Giles asked and looked down at the folder Angel was holding. "Are those the pictures? May I see them?"

Wrong excuse. Damn. "Oh, no, this is just some paperwork. I have the photos of the Chumash artifacts in my office," he relayed and nodded toward his closed door.

"Yes, I would appreciate seeing them," Giles answered with a small smile that told Angel he'd bought the story.

Opening his office door, Angel strode in quickly. He waded through the mess on his desk and produced the portfolio of pictures. After handing them to his boss, he waited a moment until Giles attention was diverted then swiftly shoved the folder with Buffy's pictures into the top drawer of his desk. If he was lucky, he could get Giles out of his office before he did something the clue the man in that he was doing something he shouldn't.

* * *

Early that evening, Angel found himself walking along the beach near his house. It hadn't been intentional. He'd stepped out onto his porch, and then suddenly ended up walking to where he'd twice seen the ghostly female figure walking. The area had simply just drawn him in.

Walking forward, he approached the water's edge and stared out over the lapping waves, just as Buffy had done in the photo he now possessed. A myriad of questions whirled around his head. The most prevalent being was Buffy Giles still alive? He was hedging his bets that she was. And that she walked this beach at night. It made sense. Willow had told him that after her rape she'd preferred to go out at night. Just one more detail to add to the puzzle.

What did she see when she stared out at the ocean as he was doing now? What did she think? Angel shook his head and took a step back. For all he knew, Buffy was dead and the figure was just some woman who liked to walk to the beach. But his gut instincts told him that was not the case. She was alive.

He swiveled on his feet and gazed up at the roofline of the house up on the cliffs. Giles' house. If Buffy was walking this beach, there was only one logical conclusion as to why. She had to still be living in that house. And if she was still living there, it was fairly easy to assume that Giles knew she was there. The house was big, but it was unlikely that Rupert Giles would be unaware that his supposedly dead daughter was living somewhere inside.

Giles had to know, and he had to know a lot more than he'd told anybody, even the police. What was he hiding, and why? One thing Angel knew for sure, the man was going to have some serious questions to answer to. But first, he had to meet with Willow, Spike, and Xander so that he could show them the pictures he'd developed and worked with. From there, they'd have to decide what to do next.

Angel started to walk back toward his house when the setting sun reflected off something shiny in the sand a few feet away. He thought for a moment that it was probably a piece of trash, or a coin someone had dropped, but he decided to check it out anyway. Bending down, he saw that it was a thin gold chain. A necklace? It was half buried in the sand so he pulled it the rest of the way out. Once it was free, a heart-shaped locket dangled from the bottom.

His pulse thudded briefly, unexplainably. It's just a locket, he told himself. Some beach-goer or tourist had probably lost it. He twisted it around with his fingers for several seconds, taking in the rose etched into the gold heart and the delicate braiding of the chain. His knowledge of expensive things told him that this was no cheap item. Someone was definitely going to be upset about losing it.

Flipping open the delicate clasp of the locket, Angel felt his breath whoosh out of him. "Buffy," he breathed out heavily.

Gazing up at him from the inside of the locket was a miniature family portrait, and he recognized two of the players. Giles stood with his arm around a middle aged woman with dark blonde hair, and standing in front of him were three children, one of which he instantly recognized as Buffy.

On the opposite side of the locket was another picture. This one was of Buffy and the middle aged woman - her mother, he assumed – with their heads close together, bright smiles on their faces. Buffy looked a few years younger in the picture than she had in the one that Willow had shown him. There was a lightness in her, the relaxed smile, the bright eyes, that hadn't been in the other picture. It was from before the rape, he realized. Before her life had been torn to pieces.

What was it about her, he wondered as his thumbnail ran over her face in the picture, that drew him in? She was beautiful, but not quite stunningly so. Her looks were enough to draw a second glance, but he wasn't the shallow type to base everything on a person's outer appearance. Was it the tragedy that had befallen her? He supposed that was a large part of it. Knowing what this innocent young woman had been through twisted something inside him. Whatever it was about her, he just couldn't get her out of his mind.

Angel clicked the locket closed and stared at the gleaming gold. This was her locket. Who else's could it be? He doubted Giles would wear such a feminine piece, and it wasn't logical for anybody else, besides Buffy, to be wearing a locket with pictures of her family. It had to be hers.

He turned the heart over a few times in his fingers. The gold was clean and unblemished, no nicks, dents or tarnish. It hadn't been on the beach for long, that was obvious. Lifting the chain up, he studied the clasp. It was broken, as he'd suspected. She'd lost it while walking the beach. If the photos hadn't been damning enough, the locket was pretty much proof positive. Buffy Giles had to be alive.

The sounds of tires on gavel drew Angel's attention. Someone was at his house. He glanced down at his watch, saw that it was too early for Willow, Spike and Xander to there, and wondered who was paying him a visit. With the locket clasped in his hand, he walked back to his house.

The last thing he'd expected to see was a police car sitting in his driveway. A tall man with dark hair was climbing the steps of his front porch. Pure instinct had him slipping his hand in his pocket and depositing the locket inside.

"Can I help you?" Angel asked as he approached the bottom of the stairs.

The man turned, flashed Angel an over-friendly smile. "Hello," he greeted and walked back down the stairs. "I'm Philip Walker, the chief of police here in Sunnydale."

Every muscle in Angel's body tightened, his hands clenched for a moment before he forced them to relax. Inside, he was seething. This man was Cameron Walker's father. His son had raped Buffy, and he'd helped cover it up. It took every once of self control to battle back the urge to shove his fist in the bastard's face.

"What can I do for you?" he inquired, forcing his voice to remain neutral. What the hell was the chief of police doing at his house?

"Oh, I just thought I'd pay a visit to our town's newest resident, see if you were settling in okay," Philip explained, his public servant smile still in place.

"Been busy," Angel answered with an indifferent shrug. "Between work on the house, and my job, it keeps me on the go."

"Yes," Philip agreed, giving the house a once over. "The place is looking good. I'm glad to see someone restoring it."

"It's a good house." What did the man want, Angel wondered. He wasn't dumb enough to believe the chief of police was checking up on his well being. There was ulterior motive written all over his face.

"Just needed a little good old fashioned TLC," he said with a chuckle. "No problem with trespassers or anything."

Ah, so that was it, Angel thought. "Trespassers? No, why?"

"I heard in town you'd seen someone wondering around," Philip relayed, his eyes staring Angel dead in the face.

"Oh, that. I'm pretty sure it was a dog. I've seen some footprints in the sand," Angel covered quickly, the lie running smoothly off his tongue.

"Hmm, well," the chief said vaguely. "You'll let me know if you have any problems?"

"Yes, of course," Angel lied again. He had no damn intention of telling the man anything.

"Good, good." Philip nodded pleasantly. "Well, I must run along. Got a dinner meeting to attend."

"Thank you for stopping by," Angel stated, flashing his most pacifying smile.

"No problem." Philip took a few steps, turned back to Angel. "Welcome to Sunnydale, Mr O'Meara."

"Whatever," Angel muttered under his breath as he watched the police cruiser pull out of his driveway. He was going to have to be very careful what he said to any of the townspeople. Tongues obviously waggled in this place.

* * *

The unexpected knock at his back door almost made Angel drop the beer he was holding. Who the hell was knocking at his back door? Peering out the window, he saw Willow, Xander and Spike waiting for him to let them in. With a shake of his head, he opened the door.

"I didn't hear you guys pull up," he said with a faint frown and peered over his at driveway, finding no car there.

"Oh, we parked in a lot about a mile down the beach," Willow explained as she walked into the kitchen.

"Umm, maybe this is a stupid question," Angel began, his voice weary. "But why?"

"Cuz, mate, it wouldn't look too good for us to be seen over at your house regularly," Spike relayed, and made himself at home by walking to Angel's refrigerator and pulling out a beer.

"Right," agreed Angel, pressing his fingers to his temple. Damnit, he was getting another headache. "I had a visit from your friendly chief of police today."

"Walker was here?" Xander's hand paused in the act of opening his own beer, his face paling. "Why?"

"Oh, he claimed he just wanted to greet the town's newest resident," Angel said sarcastically.

"Yeah, sure," Spike snorted. "And little piggies fly around my head while I sleep."

Angel eyed Spike for a moment. Strange man, he decided. "He was fishing for info. Heard that I'd seen something on the beach. I told him it was a dog."

"Good choice." Spike toasted him with his beer.

"Where are the pictures, Angel?" Willow cut in anxiously.

Grabbing the folder off his counter, he handed them to Willow, saying nothing. He watched as she pulled them out, stared at the images. All the color drained from her face and she fell heavily into the one of the chairs at the kitchen table.

"Oh, god. Buffy," she whispered, choking back a sob.

Spike and Xander gathered around her, looked down at the photo of Buffy staring out over the ocean. "Damn," Xander breathed out, his eyes closing slowly.

Willow looked up, a single tear falling down her cheek. "She's alive." Anger flashed into her eyes, her hand tightened on the photo. "She's alive," she repeated, this time stronger, harsher.

Before anyone could speak, she leapt out of the chair, the photo still gripped in her hand, and dashed out the back door.

"Where the hell is she going?" Xander asked in tired exasperation.

Spike gave him a steady looked, flicked his eyes to the door. "Giles," he said then followed after Willow.

"Christ," Xander mumbled, letting his head fall back.

Grabbing his car keys off the counter, Angel strode quickly to the door. Willow wanted answers. And, so, did he.

"What the hell are we doing?" Xander hissed at Spike as Willow pounded on the front door to Giles' house with a barely restrained fury.

"If you have to ask, then you're bloody stupid," Spike bit out, his eyes trained solely on his fiancé who seemed to be holding it together by a mere string. His own emotions were in turmoil, but Willow was a powder keg ready to blow.

Angel stood behind the three, hands jammed in his pockets. This was their fight. He was just a bystander, really. They were the ones who needed answers the most.

Willow was still pounding on the door when Giles finally appeared. "Willow, what's-."

He didn't have a chance to finish speaking. The angry redhead had shoved the picture clenched in her hand before his eyes. Every ounce of color drained from his face, his mouth dropped open. Willow ignored it all.

"I want answers, and I want them now, Giles!" she demanded and pushed her way into the house.

* * *

TBC 


	11. Chapter 10

**AN: ** for those of you here at _the-site-which-cannot-be-named_ (ie. this fanfiction site), I thought I should mention this. The PTB here at _the-site-which-cannot-be-named_ are threatening to close accounts of authors who have included any song lyrics in any of their fics. I haven't used lyrics in Midnight Angel, but I have in other fics. And I have absolutely no intention of removing them to suit whatever need the PTB here have. If they delete my account, so be it. So if you come here and find me and my fics missing, that is likely the reason. New fic chapters are always posted immediately on my website, though. There's a link in my user profile. Or you can do a Google search for my site name (Vagabond Soul) and you should find it. I also have an email update group where new chapters go out as soon as they are posted. Anyway, I thought I should mention that.

**Warning:** this chapter is kinda dark and a little graphic

* * *

**Chapter 10**

The foyer inside Giles' home was deathly silent. Near the entranceway, Spike, Xander, and Angel stood in an abbreviated huddle, unsure of what do to or what to say. They simply held their positions and waited for something to happen. Waited for Giles to respond. At the moment, he was only staring down at the picture, his face tense and pale. In front of him, Willow glared angrily, her body trembling.

Finally, Giles raised his eyes, glanced at the people who'd invaded his home, who threatened to destroy what was left of his family, before his eyes landed on Angel. "You took this?" he asked tightly.

"Yes," Angel said with a nod. There was no reason to deny it.

Removing his glasses, Giles pinched the bridge of his nose. He'd hoped he'd never have to deal with this, never have to tell the truth of what had happened that horrendous night four years prior. His life had already been torn to pieces. Now, what remained was hanging by a thin thread that was already frayed. The four people in front of him had the ability take away all that he had left.

"I'm waiting, Giles," Willow snapped. He looked up at her, opened his mouth to speak, but abruptly closed it again. "Don't you dare lie to me!" she demanded, yanking the picture from his hand. "I know she's not dead!"

"Willow," Spike stated softly, walking over and putting a soothing hand on her shoulder.

She shook off the gesture, shot narrowed eyes in his direction. "I'm not going to let him wiggle out of telling us what the hell's going on!"

"Okay," Spike agreed. He placed his hands back on her shoulders, turned her to face him. "He'll tell us, but why don't we give him a minute? We can go into the living room, sit down, and let him explain."

Willow took a deep breath, tried to calm some of her frustration. It didn't work. "Fine," she bit out and stomped to the room on her right.

Spike ran a hand through his hair, looked at Angel and Xander then back at Giles. "She's not going to leave until you give her answers, and frankly, she's got every right to know them. We all do," he told the unsteady Giles. "So you might as well go sit down and start explaining."

Shoulders slumping minutely, Giles replaced his glasses and walked hesitantly into the room Willow had entered. Behind him, Spike, Xander and Angel followed, sharing unsure glances between them. Inside the room, Willow's pacing abruptly halted when she saw Giles.

"Answer me one question. One," she requested as calmly as possible. "Is Buffy alive."

"Yes," Giles responded dejectedly, not over the fact that his assumed dead daughter was really alive, but that he was going to have to reveal his deepest, darkest secret.

Hand clenched, Willow walked over to the couch, dropped onto it, and stared hard at Giles. "Why have you been hiding her here all this time?"

"Because I had to!" Giles shouted desperately. "They would have taken her away! They would have locked her up in some institution! I couldn't let that happen! She was all I had left!"

"Why the bloody hell would they do that?" Spike challenged, his own anger and frustration growing.

Giles released a shuddering breath, his eyes closed, his head drooped. "Because she killed them."

"She... – NO!" Willow roared, leaping off the couch. "No! You can't believe that!"

"I know what I saw," Giles stated wearily, all but flopping into one of the living room chairs. It would all come out now. Each and every little detail.

Spike grabbed Willow's arm, led her back to the couch. She looked as if she wanted to tear Giles' eyes out. Not that he could blame her. Believing Buffy could kill someone, let alone her own family, was absolutely ridiculous. But for whatever reason, Giles believed his own daughter had committed murder. "Why don't you tell us exactly what happened?" he asked Giles.

In the doorway of the room, Angel hovered between wanting to enter and feeling like he should turn and leave. He was an outsider here. He hadn't been part of this. He'd never met Buffy, barely knew the people in the room. His right to be there was relegated to the fact that he had seen a supposed ghost and then had taken a picture that proved the ghost was indeed a live person, who was believed to be dead. There was no reason for him to be part of this.

He stayed. He had to know. So he listened as Giles told of the events the night his family was murdered.

* * *

"_No!" he barely managed to whisper before he fell to his knees, heavy sobs shaking his body, as he knew deep in his heart that it was already too late, that there was nothing he could do. Everything he loved was gone._

_He could do nothing but stare at it all. The blood. The bodies. It was too much. His stomach churned and he retched violently. The stench went unnoticed, the bile in his mouth untasted. The only thing he was aware of was the scene graphically displayed before his eyes. _

_Dawn. Little Dawnie. His baby, her body half sprawled across the couch, a jagged wound torn across her throat. And the blood, spilling down her skin, staining her pale pink shirt a violent red._

_Owen. His only son, his body draped across the floor. Gouges dotted his arms, thin trails of red flowed from them. But they were nicks compared to the deep, penetrating wound Giles could see over the heart, surrounding by a circle of life's essence. A killing blow._

_And Joyce, his lovely wife, laying only a few away, but so far out of reach. Her glassy eyes staring unseeingly, her face beautiful even in death. The body he'd loved and stood faithfully next to for twenty-five years was unmarked, except for the twin slashes at her wrists._

_He crawled to wife's body, lowered his forehead to hers. "Oh God, Joyce," he choked out brokenly._

_Tears ran down his face, falling unheeded into his wife's hair. A sob echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls and ringing in his ears. He fell back on his heels, his mind blank except for the searing grief._

_He didn't want to see it. Couldn't help but see it. Joyce and Dawn and Owen and – Buffy! Where was Buffy?_

_Giles scrambled to his feet, his eyes darting around the room in search of his eldest child. Knees weak, he almost fell, his hand grasping at the end table by the couch. That was when he saw it, saw the knife, dripping with red, stabbed into the wood of the table. Pinned beneath it, scribbled on a stained piece of paper, was a note._

"_I'm sorry_

_I'm sorry_

_I'm sorry"_

"_No," he whispered in denial. "No!" This time louder. "Buffy!" he shouted, stumbling away from the table._

_Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the door to the little closet open and dashed toward it. Relief warred with fear, with anger, with denial, when he found Buffy curled inside the closet. The pretty blue top and khaki shorts she wore were splashed with red, her fingers stained with it._

_Kneeling, he pressed his fingers to her throat, felt her pulse beating beneath them. The fingers dropped away, his eyes closed. "Dear God," he breathed out, the sound of his own voice startling him._

_His eyes blinked open again, focused on his daughter. He remembered the note, and his shoulders shook under the heavy sobs that rose in his throat._

_Buffy. His precious little girl. The one who'd sat on his knee and asked him to tell her stories, fairytales, with knights on chargers, and long-haired princesses. The one who'd spilled grape juice on one of his white shirts and then claimed it was a new fashion statement._

_The one who'd been violated, tormented, harassed, and shunned._

_The one who'd snapped and broken._

_Giles wiped the tears from his eyes. He wouldn't let them take her. No matter what she'd done. She was his daughter. She was all he had left. He would NOT allow them to lock her up in some little room. He would protect her._

_Any doubts he may have had ceased to exist when he scooped up her body, felt her press herself unconsciously closer, heard the merest of whimpers reach his ears. No, he wouldn't let them take her._

_He held her close, carried her out of the room and away from the life he no longer had._

_

* * *

_  
"I hid her and then...I don't know why I did it, but I took one of her shoes and tossed it down on the path leading out onto the cliffs," Giles continued on, his hands lifting helplessly in his lap.

"So the cops would think she'd tossed herself off the cliffs," Spike concluded, dazed by all that he'd heard. It couldn't be true, could it?

"I don't know," Giles responded, sighing heavily. He shook his head, still trying to makes sense of it all even now, four years later. "I guess I just wanted them to think she'd left the house. I don't really know what I wanted them to think. If I'd been thinking more clearly, I would have gotten rid of the knife and the note as well but..." He shrugged. He hadn't been thinking too clearly at the time. "I came in and called the police."

"Didn't they search the house?" Angel spoke up, wondering how the police could have come in, studied a crime scene and not found the girl, the supposed murderer, hidden somewhere inside.

Giles gave him a pitying look, Xander snorted. "They conducted only a cursory investigation, I can assure you," Giles answered, his eyes darkening.

"And they were only to happy to deem Buffy a murderer," Spike pointed out.

"You can't really believe that – that she did it!" Willow said harshly, the first time she'd made any sound or movement since Giles had begun his story.

"There was a note. She was covered with blood, but unharmed," Giles reminded her. "It's not what I'd wanted to believe." And he hadn't. Nothing in the world had been worse than finding his family dead, and by the hand of his own daughter. But there was nothing else for him to believe.

"She couldn't have done it. Couldn't! And you...you!" she spat out, pointing an accusing finger at Giles. "You should be ashamed for even thinking she could!"

"Willow-"

She didn't let him continue as she jumped up from the couch, shrugging off Spike's hand. "And you've kept her locked up here for four years! All this time and she's been there!"

"You've kept her locked up here for that long?" Xander asked, steel underlying the quiet tone of his voice. "What? Do you have her shut up in some dingy room in the basement?"

"Of course not!" Giles denied, offended the boy would think such a thing. "She uses the third floor. We had it redone about six years ago and made into an apartment of sorts in case family or friends ever came to stay for more than a few days. She rarely leaves there, of her own choice. I knew she was sneaking out at night, what with the ghost stories and all, and I asked her not to. It was too risky, but she still does it anyway."

"So you just live here with someone you believe murdered the rest of your family?" Willow questioned hotly.

Giles looked down, ashamed. "I keep my door locked at night," he mumbled.

Willow walked over, stood directly in front of Giles. "I want to see her."

"Willow-"

"Don't tell me no!" she demanded forcefully. "I'll tear this house apart until I find her!"

"S-she's up on the third floor, like I said," Giles replied hesitantly.

Turning quickly on her heels, Willow darted out of the room. "Willow! Wait!" Giles pleaded, but her footsteps were already echoing on the stairs. The others hurried after her, desperate to see Buffy for themselves.

Spike caught up with her as she started up the last flight of stairs, grabbing her arm to halt her. "Willow, you can't just barge in there like an elephant. You don't know how she'll react. You might scare her."

Willow started to speak, took a deep breath released it slowly. He was right, of course. "It's okay. I'm fine," she assured him.

Slowly, she climbed the remaining stairs, stopping when she reached the door at the top. Her hand trembled as she lifted it toward the knob. She hesitated, then gripped the metal tightly, and opened the door. Stepping into the room, she paused, taking in only the smallest details of the room lit only by a floor lamp in one corner. Her eyes drifted until they landed on Buffy, seated on a small window seat with her knees pulled up to her chest. Willow steeled her suddenly jumping nerves and walked over to her friend, stopping a few feet away from her, unaware that the others were right behind her.

"Buffy?" she said ever so softly.

For a long minute, there was no response, not even the slightest twitch of muscle from the small blonde seated on the cushion to signal recognition. Then, just as Willow was about to speak her name again, she saw Buffy's arms tighten on her knees, and her head begin to slowly turn towards the group.

Buffy's blank gaze roved over the intruders – from Willow, to Spike, to Xander, to her father – and landed steadily on Angel. He fought the urge to shuffle his feet and instead met her stare, losing himself in the sad, haunted eyes that shone a dull green.

"You live on the beach," she stated faintly, fragilely.

Angel gave her a small smile. "Yeah," he confirmed.

"I've seen you," she told him then turned her head to stare back out the window.

For the rest of their time on the third floor, Buffy failed to acknowledge their presences any further, not even when Willow sat beside her. After five minutes of trying, Spike took her arm and led her out of the room, knowing she'd sit there for hours if allowed. He didn't think that would do Buffy any good. She appeared to be locked in her own little world.

The group reconvened in the living room. Spike held Willow in his arms as she sobbed against his chest. He tried to soothe her, but she was heartbroken, a feeling he could understand. It hadn't been easy to see Buffy that way.

"She almost never speaks," Giles finally said. "Sometimes if you talk to her, she'll say a few words, but most of the time, she acts as if you're not there."

"Didn't-didn't you ever ask her if...if she did it," Willow choked out, her voice muffled against Spike's chest.

Giles looked pained, turned away. "She won't speak of that night. I've tried, but I haven't ever been able to get anything out of her, not what happened, or why, or anything."

"I...I c-can't be here," Willow sobbed, tore herself out of Spike's arms and ran out of the house before anyone could stop her.

"I'll go after her," offered Xander wearily, swiftly leaving.

Giles turned back, looked hard at Spike. "You won't tell anyone? At least not until I can move her somewhere else? I won't allow her to be taken away."

"If you believe I'd say anything, like you believe she actually did it, then you really are a bloody flaming idiot," Spike snarled at him before taking Willow's lead and leaving.

Finding himself in the awkward position of being the only one left with Giles, Angel shifted on his feet, stuffed his hands in his pockets. What was he supposed to do now? "We won't tell anyone she's here or alive, Giles. She'll be safe," he settled on saying.

Nodding once, Giles sank tiredly into a chair as Angel left. She would be protected. At least for a while, he told himself.

* * *

TBC 


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

The relentless, shrilling ring of his telephone greeted Angel when he walked back into his house. He sighed out loud at the intrusion. The last thing he wanted was to talk to anybody. There were too many things whirling around in his head to have a coherent conversation with whoever was calling. The visit to Giles' house, and the resulting revelations, had left him emotionally wrung out. Even as a bystander, hearing about the murders, and then seeing Buffy, had torn at him.

He contemplated letting his machine answer the phone, checked the caller ID, and sighed again.

"Hey, Fred," he greeted after picking up the receiver.

"Angel!" Fred returned, her voice mildly chiding. "I've been trying to call you all night!"

"Sorry," he apologized. "I was out and just got home."

"Out? It's kind of late isn't it?" she asked.

"I was...meeting some friends." It wasn't a lie. Precisely. He was with people who were sort of friends.

"You're made some friends? That's great, Angel! Tell me all about them!" his sister ordered.

Angel held back a chuckle. Fred would likely want to make sure he was hanging out with nice people. She loved to worry. So he told her the basics of what he knew about the group he'd been with. Willow and Spike were engaged and they owned an internet café in town, and Xander was a friend of theirs who worked in construction. They were a little younger than he was, but nice people. Thankfully, Fred accepted the descriptions.

"I'm glad you're not sitting home all the time, or working too much," Fred babbled happily.

"I don't think there's much chance of being bored around her," Angel replied then hoped his sister missed the sarcasm in his voice. Better change the subject, he thought. "Your finals start soon, right?"

"Yeah," she sighed out. "My first one is in two days."

"Shouldn't you be studying then," he teased, all the while knowing his little sister was an obsessive studier.

"I'm taking a break," she told him. "I'm afraid my brain's going explode soon."

"Wouldn't want that to happen," Angel said with a laugh.

"Anyways," she continued. "I just wanted to see how you were doing. I better get back to my notes."

"Okay. Good luck with your finals," he told her then said his goodbyes.

After hanging up the phone, Angel simply stood in the center of his kitchen and wondered what he was supposed to do next. None of his plans for moving to the supposedly quiet, small town of Sunnydale had surrounded around becoming involved with a murder mystery and meeting a believed-dead woman. No, that really hadn't been part of his plans. All he'd wanted was a peaceful, steady life after years of travel.

Well, he wasn't exactly getting that, was he? So what was he supposed to do now? He'd heard the story of the murder of Giles family. He'd found out that Buffy was alive, being hidden in her house because her father, and the police, believed she'd killed her family. He knew it all now. It shouldn't matter to him. None of it. But it did.

He remembered the way Buffy had stared at him up in her third floor prison. He remembered how sad and full of grief her eyes had looked. And he remembered how she had stared through the window, gazing out at a world she was no longer really a part of. There was a distinct urge in him to gather her close, hold her, and tell her everything would be all right. But he didn't know if it would be, and that was a promise he couldn't make.

What he needed, Angel told himself, was to stop thinking about this entire situation for a while. He was obsessing over it, and obsession was almost never good. Time for a break, or time for some work, actually. So grabbing a bottle of ice tea out of the refrigerator, Angel trekked through his house and into his office. He would go over some prints for the Chumash article. That would, hopefully, take his mind off...everything else.

* * *

The moon shone down on him from high overhead as Angel walked the beach almost two hours later. Work had held him for a while, then he'd managed to get some laundry started. He'd hoped sleep would follow, but he'd found himself restless, and after staring out the window for ten minutes, he'd walked out and onto the sand. 

A few feet away, the waves slapped roughly at the beach. There must be a storm coming in soon, he thought, though the sky was still clear. It would probably rain the next day. He didn't mind. It would be the weekend, and he wouldn't have to go in to work so he could spend the whole day in his house. The perfect place to be on a rainy, stormy day.

He knew she was there before she stepped up beside him. Just like he'd unconsciously known she would come., and that he wanted to be there. To see her, to talk to her. He didn't look at her, only continued to gaze at the dark ocean in front of him.

"It's beautiful," she said softly.

"Yeah," he agreed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I like waking up and seeing it outside my windows every morning."

"I like to come here most when the moon is full," she told him then sat down, sliding off her sandals so she could bury her feet in the sand.

Angel glanced down at her, wondered if she wanted to be alone. She'd talked to him though. She hadn't ignored him. So he eased himself down next to her, making sure to leave a generous two feet between them. He didn't want to frighten her or make her feel threatened in anyway.

"I leave my windows open sometimes at night so I can hear the waves," he relayed for lack of anything else to say.

She sighed, linked her arms around her raised knees. "Sometimes I think I could fall asleep out here. Then maybe..."

"Maybe what?" Angel prodded gently.

"Then maybe...maybe the nightmares wouldn't come."

What was he supposed to say to that? He supposed he should have said something soothing or pacifying, but there wasn't anything he could say. There was nothing he could do to ease whatever pain she felt inside. So he said nothing and continued to watch the lapping of the waves under the pale light of the moon.

The beach was quiet except for the calming ocean sounds. There were no gulls squawking overhead, no chattering tourists or townspeople, no roaring of traffic, just the ocean. They were completely alone. And it never occurred to Angel to feel fear over the fact that he was alone with someone who had supposedly murdered three members of her family. Aside from his uncertainty at what to say to her, he felt comfortable.

Beside him, Buffy rested her chin on the tops of her knees and closed her eyes. She loved sitting or walking on the beach. It was one of the few places she didn't feel trapped. Her rooms on the third floor of the house on the cliffs were well-furnished and entirely livable, but they were her prison. They were where her father had told her she had to stay. She thought more often than not that he would prefer she wasn't there at all. She was his burden.

No one ever came to see her. The only person she ever saw was Giles. Everyone else had abandoned her. Or died. And all of it was her fault. She couldn't blame anyone but herself. But she wondered...

"Why did you all come today? To the house?" she clarified, turning her head to rest her cheek on her knees.

Who was he, she wondered. She'd seen him around the pretty Victorian house recently. He wasn't one to be easily missed with his tall height and strong build. Once, she'd watched him while he'd stood on his porch at night, taking pictures. The yearning to talk to him, to anyone, had almost driven her across the sand and up the steps to him. But her father had told her not to talk to anyone or let them see her. And he was a man, someone she didn't know. So she'd slipped back into the woods and up to her house, allowing her tears to fall freely the whole way.

And now here he was, sitting on the beach talking to her. Why? Why had he come to her this afternoon? Why had the others?

"Willow wanted to see you," Angel answered, his voice quiet and non-threatening. "She's missed her best friend for the last four years."

"Four years? Is that how long it's been?" She thought about it, shrugged her shoulders slightly. "It seems longer."

Another thing he didn't know how to respond to, Angel thought with an inner groan. "She wanted to see you," he continued answering the original question. "When she found out you were alive she-."

"Alive?" Buffy repeated in a whisper.

"Yeah, she..." he trailed off abruptly. Good God, he thought, did she not know what people thought? What had Giles told her? What did she know? He was floundering completely in the dark, he suddenly realized.

"Why wouldn't she think I was alive?" she pushed hesitantly. For four years she'd lived in silence, alone. Ever since the night... That night. Ever since, nothing had been real, nothing had been right. She wanted to know why. Need to know why.

There was nothing for him to say but the truth. He could have lied, or hedged, but her sad, inquiring eyes stopped him. He couldn't lie to her.

"After...," he began, wondering if he was doing the right thing. "Well after, your father let everyone believe that you had died that...that because of what happened, you had killed yourself by jumping off the cliffs." He saw the surprise and hurt in her eyes, hated himself for putting it there.

Buffy turned away, pressed her forehead to her knees. So that was why. Her father wished she was gone, wished she was dead. That was why he pushed her up onto the third floor of the house that had once been her home, why he kept her away from everybody. She was virtually as dead as the rest of her family.

"Maybe I should be dead," she mumbled, so softly Angel almost didn't hear her.

When she turned her face back to him, he could see the tears shimmering in her eyes. Slowly, one tumbled down, landing on her cheek where it glowed softly from the light of the mood. Angel didn't have time to tell himself not to do it before his hand reached out and his fingers brushed away the solitary tear. His finger remained on her soft skin for a long moment as their eyes met, held.

"Don't say that," he whispered comfortingly, and carefully withdrew his hand though he ached to leave it there. "What about your father? Your friends? The second Willow found out you were alive, she went straight to your house to see you."

"She did?" Buffy asked, staring at him as if trying to discern whether he was telling the truth.

"Yes, she did," he confirmed. "And Spike, and Xander. They've missed you."

"I-I thought," she stuttered tearfully. "I thought they hated me, that the didn't want to see me anymore."

"That's not true," Angel disagreed and went with instinct by putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. When she didn't flinch from the contact, he left it there. "You should talk to them sometime."

"Maybe," she responded uncertainly. Seeing them, talking to them, wasn't something she was sure she could do. It had been so long, and so much had happened. Why would they want anything to do with her?

Angel saw the small frown mar her face, thought she was uncomfortable, and removed his hand from her shoulder. When the frown remained, he asked, "What's wrong?"

"I don't even know your name," she told him.

"Oh," he released a small chuckle. "Angel. Angel O'Meara."

"Angel," Buffy repeated, giving him a small smile. "I like it."

"Thanks."

When he smiled back at her, she felt her heart thud in her chest and quickly looked away from him and toward the ocean. So long, the thought, it had been so long since she'd felt that flutter over a guy. And the last time...she shuddered, memories of that long ago day in the girl's locker room flashing before her eyes.

"I should go," she said quickly, and pushed herself off the sand.

"Okay," Angel answered as he watched her pull on her sandals and begin to walk away. She was a few feet away when he said her name. He waited until she'd turned her head to look at him before speaking again. "If you want...sometime...you can come by my house. I'm usually home."

He thought he saw the faintest curve of her lips, but when she said nothing, only walked away and slipped into the woods, he told himself he was wrong. He'd probably frightened her by being so forward. But she hadn't seemed afraid. The whole time they'd sat talking, she'd seemed comfortable. Still, he shouldn't have told her she could stop by his house. That had been a mistake, but he hadn't really taken the time to think to much before he'd issued the invitation. Nothing he could do about it now.

Long after Buffy had left, Angel remained seated by the water's edge, thinking about the time he'd spent with Buffy. His brow furrowed when he remembered how she hadn't know that everyone believed her dead. Slightly irrational anger welled in him towards Giles. How could the man let his daughter, regardless of the circumstances, think that nobody wanted to see her?

What exactly did Buffy know, he wondered. What did she remember or know about the night of her family's murders? Why did she think Giles kept her virtually locked in her rooms?

He couldn't help the stirring of pity he felt for her. She'd been through so much, and it never seemed to end. A victim was all she was. A victim of rape, of harassment, of everybody else's power. She'd done nothing wrong. Her life had changed one simple day when she'd gone to a swim meet to watch her crush, and she was still living in the nightmare of that day.

They'd cast her as a slut, as some crazy person. As a murderer. That last thought gave Angel pause. A murderer. Every ounce of logic in him told him she could no more have committed murder than he could. Despite what little he knew about her personally, or the little time he'd spent with her, he just couldn't believe it. Which left him with one lasting question. Who really had killed her family?

A raindrop splashed on Angel's cheek, dragging him from his thoughts. Looking up, he saw that the storm he'd predicted earlier was rolling in. Dark, suffocating clouds were easing their way across the sky. If he didn't want to get drenched, he needed go back to his house. So he stood and brushed the sand off his pants. With a last look in the direction Buffy had gone, he crossed the sand and climbed onto his front porch.

He didn't bother to switch the clothes he'd tossed into washer before he'd gone out into the dryer. They could wait until morning. He was exhausted. The day, or rather the night, had been utterly exhausting. All he wanted to do now was sleep, and hopefully peacefully.

The shirt he yanked off was tossed onto the floor heedlessly. His pants followed suit, leaving him in only a pair of boxers. He crossed to his dresser, placing his watch on top. Before he could turn to climb into his bed, he saw the glint of gold in the faint light of his room. He picked up the slim chain, its locket dangling down, and thought of Buffy. She remained in his mind even as he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

TBC 


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12

* * *

**

_Author's Note: My apologies to everyone for taking so ridiculously long to get this chapter posted. It was unavoidable. As those of you who read my Livejournal know, my dog passed away 2 weeks ago. I'd had her for 13 years so it was incredibly difficult and completely killed my ability to write. I must also apologize for not replying to the feedback I got on the last chapter. My mind has just been elsewhere recently. But thank you to everyone who sent comments! They were much appreciated!_

_Anyway, here's a new chapter finally! I hope you all enjoy it!_

_Isis FG

* * *

_

Four days passed in relative quiet for Angel. He went to work every day and did his job. At night, he came home, did a little more work, helped calm his sister down before one of her harder finals, and generally did nothing of interest. The contractors were almost done their work, so he'd started planning what he would need to do once the overhaul of the house was complete. In other words, his life had been down right boring. Why that bothered him, he couldn't say.

Since the night they'd gone Giles' house and seen Buffy, he'd not heard a word from Willow or Spike. He assumed it was because the redhead was still trying to recover from the shock. He'd seen how upset she'd been that night, and he didn't blame her one bit. Nothing about this situation was simple. He had, however, seen Xander. The younger man had stopped by just the night before

They'd shared a few beers, talked some. If he wasn't mistaken, Angel thought Xander seemed a bit lost by all that had happened. Again, he couldn't blame the reaction. He also knew that Xander was still feeling guilt over not standing solidly by Buffy after the rape. That was something Xander would have to settle on his own. There was nothing Angel could do about it.

Also, in the past four days, Angel had not seen or spoken to Buffy, not since that night on the beach. He hadn't returned to the beach at night since then. It hadn't seemed right. He didn't want to intrude. If that was her one spot where she found some modicum of peace, it wasn't his right to take that away. So he'd stayed away, and she had yet to take up his invitation to visit his house.

He wanted to see her again, to talk to her again. He wanted to hear her voice, to see those little flutters of a smile form on her face. And he wanted to help her. Not for an instant, did he believe her guilty of multiple murders. Unfortunately, the police, and the public at large, did. Until the truth, whatever it was, came out about what had happened to her family, she would never be able to move on, to begin to live life again.

That, most of all, was what he wanted. To see her live life, see her really, truly smile. It was ludicrous to want such things for someone he hardly knew, but he did. The tragic story of her life had struck a chord in him, and now that he'd met her, spoken to her, his involvement had only grown stronger.

What was it about her, he wondered for the millionth time. She was beautiful, yes. He'd have to be dead not to be struck by her beauty, or to be drawn in by those sad green eyes. But it was more than that. He was awed by her inner strength. After all she'd been through, she was still existing. Maybe not thriving, but she'd not given up, not given in to the pain and torment. She was still trudging on. And he wanted to help her break the rest of the way free of the life that had boxed her in and cut her off from the world.

He had no idea how he was going to do that. But he would.

Sighing, Angel tossed the book he'd been trying to read onto the living room coffee table. He'd been trying to read the damn thing for the past hour and a half, but his mind kept wandering. And now it was nearing one in the morning. Luckily, he didn't have to in to work until late the next day. One of the perks of his job. His hours were flexible.

Since he wasn't getting anywhere with the current bestseller on his coffee table, Angel opted to head into the kitchen for a late night snack. He thought he still had half a sandwich in his fridge. He'd munch on that, try to read another chapter in the book, and then hopefully drag himself off to bed.

Just as he was nearing the kitchen, Angel heard the soft knock on his back door, and his steps faltered. As he entered the doorway, he stopped and stared. The heavy wooden door leading to the outside from the kitchen was open. The thin, screened door was closed, keeping the nighttime insects from getting into the house. And on the other side of the screen was Buffy.

She saw him enter the kitchen and stare. Unease rose within her as her hands clenched together at her waist, and her feet shifted nervously. The urge to run, to return to the solitary safety of her rooms was great. She worried she'd made a mistake coming. He'd told her she could come, but maybe he hadn't meant it. Maybe he'd just been being nice and hoped she didn't take him up on the offer. But she'd wanted to see him again. He'd been nice to talk to that night on the beach.

"I saw your lights on," she finally said, talking through the screen that separated them.

The sound of her voice snapped Angel out of the mild daze he'd slipped into when he'd seen her at his door. "Do you want to come in?" he asked as he walked toward the door.

"I don't want to bother you. I know it's late," she told him, her hands still clenching.

"No, it's okay. I couldn't sleep." Angel crossed the rest of the way to the door and pushed it open slightly, letting her know she could come in.

Buffy pulled the door open the rest of the way and slowly entered the kitchen. She couldn't stop herself from being nervous. She didn't want to be an annoyance. The beach had seemed so lonely as she'd sat out on it, and when she'd seen his lights still on, she'd taken a chance.

The little voice inside her head told her that she shouldn't be here, that she hardly knew this man whose kitchen she was standing in. Alone with. And he was so much bigger than she was. No, she thought to herself. She couldn't allow herself to be afraid of every single person she came into contact with. Her father and friends knew Angel. That had to mean something. But then again, she'd known Cameron Walker for a long time before...well, before.

Angel couldn't have missed the nervous, worrying fear on her face, in her eyes. It shown clearly. He didn't know exactly what she was afraid of, there were so many things it could be, but he hated it. So he decided to be blunt, and hope to ease whatever the fears were.

"I won't do anything to hurt you," he promised, his voice gentle. "And I wouldn't have invited you in if I didn't want you to come it."

A blush crept up her cheeks as she realized her feelings had been that transparent. "I'm sorry. It's just..."

"It's okay. I understand," he assured her. "Do you, uh, want something to drink? We can go into the living and sit down."

"Okay," Buffy agreed and took the bottle of juice Angel offered her

He led her into the living room, glad that he'd taken the time to straighten up a bit earlier that evening. Buffy stood in the center of the room, taking in her surroundings. She couldn't help but be curious about everything. For so long the only places she really saw were her rooms and the beach. So she began to wander the room, looking at everything. The pictures on top the mantle caught her attention quickly.

In the middle, was a photo of Angel and a young woman with long brown hair and a thin face. Both the woman and Angel were smiling brightly and one of his arms was around her shoulders. A little pang of jealousy snuck up and surprised Buffy. They were so casual, so comfortable with each other, she thought.

Angel stepped up beside Buffy, took the picture she was studying in his hands. "That's my sister, Fred," he told her.

Tilting her head upwards, Buffy looked up at Angel. "You have a sister?"

"Yeah," he confirmed. "Well, actually, she's my half sister, but we're really close. She lives in Los Angeles."

"I had a brother and a sister," she said softly, a hint of tears in her voice as she cast her eyes away.

The pain in her words broke Angel's heart. He knew what it was like to lose people you loved from the deaths of his father and step-mother, and he couldn't imagine ever losing Fred. "You must miss them a lot," he responded, reaching out and tucking her hair behind her ear. She didn't answer, merely nodded her head slightly. "Oh," he blurted out, suddenly remembering something. "I have something for you."

He trotted out of the room, and grabbed a small plastic bag off the entryway table. He'd just picked it up after work today. Reentering the living room, he walked back to Buffy, handed her the little baggie.

Confused, she stared at him for a moment before gazing down at what he'd placed in her hand. Tears formed in her eyes when she saw what it was. "My locket," she whispered and pulled it out of the bag before clutching it tightly in her hand.

"I found it on the beach," Angel explained. "The clasp was broken. I took it to a jeweler and had the chain fixed."

"I thought it was gone." Her eyes were big and swimming with tears when she looked back up at Angel. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He smiled, thankful that he'd found something that was obviously important to her. "Here," he took the locket out of her hand. "I'll help you put it back on."

"O-okay," she stuttered her answer. He was being so nice to her. It wasn't something she was used to. But she turned around anyway and lifted up her hair.

Angel unclasped the chain, draped it around her neck. Being so close, he could smell the scent of her shampoo. Something citrus-y. His fingers brushed the back of her neck, teasing him with the softness of her skin. Before he did something stupid, Angel quickly hooked the chain together and stepped back. If he'd stayed that close to her any longer, he would have done something monumentally dumbe, like kissing the curve of skin between her shoulder and neck. No, he definitely couldn't do something like that.

In desperate need to distract himself, he picked up the bottle of juice she'd set down on the mantle and handed it to her. "It's probably getting warm," he said then retrieved his own drink from the coffee table.

"Oh, yeah," Buffy mumbled, fighting off a shudder that had been threatening to overcome her the moment his fingers had skimmed her neck. God, she'd never felt quite so...fluttery...around a guy before. It was strange, but not in a bad way.

She took a sip of her juice and began to wander the room again, all the while wondering what his fingers would have felt like if they'd remained a little longer on her skin. She quickly pushed the foreign thoughts away, though. A trio of photographs on the wall drew her attention. She studied them for a minute, enjoying the beautiful landscapes portrayed.

"These are really pretty," she commented, crouching a little to get a better look at the middle photo. "Where are they from?"

"Those I took in a rain forest in South America," he relayed, taking a seat on the couch as he enjoyed seeing her in his space, looking at his things.

Turning, she gazed at him curiously. "You took them?"

"Yeah. I'm a photographer," he told her. "Actually, I work for your father now at his magazine."

A twinge clutched at her heart at the mention of her father, but she pushed it away. "Oh. I didn't know that."

"I just started a couple of weeks ago," he corrected. "I used to travel all the time and I got tired of it"

"Is that why you moved here?" she asked as she walked over to the couch, sat down on the end opposite Angel, unconsciously putting as much space between them as possible.

"Pretty much. I wanted to have an actual house for once," Angel explained, happy to see that she appeared to be relaxing some in his presence. It felt good, right, to sit in his living room and talk to her. He was going to hate himself in the morning, though, when he had to get up after less sleep than he was used to.

"Won't you miss traveling to all those place though?" Buffy wondered, glancing at his rain forest photos.

"A little," he said with a shrug. "But I've spent almost my whole entire life moving around, even when I was a kid."

"Really?" Buffy curled herself up on the couch, content to listen to Angel talk. He had such a deep, soothing voice. And she wanted to learn more about him, who he is, what he liked, what he'd done. It'd been so long since she'd been able to have a real conversation.

Angel saw that she was genuinely interested in things about his life. She was tucked into the corner of the couch, watching him intently. It warmed him to see her relaxing inch by inch, muscle by muscle. So he continued to talk.

"My father was an archaeologist," he began, and settled himself further into the couch. "When I was a kid, I spent most of my time at dig sites with him. Since we moved around a lot, I didn't go to school much. I had tutors though."

He maintained the conversation, telling about how he'd grown up. She asked about his birth mother and he told her he'd never met her. But he talked about the trip to Texas and how his father had met his step-mother, and then getting a little sister. He hesitantly told her about how Fred had come to live with him after her mother's death, and how only a short year later they'd lost their father. It didn't miss his notice that her eyes darted away when he talked about the deaths of both of them. All the while, though, she listened.

"You must have traveled to a lot of places," she said after he'd gone through the last chapter of his life, when he was a photographer for _National Geographic_.

"I've been to every continent," he answered, unable to smother the pride in the statement.

"What's the coolest place you've been?" she asked as her head leaned back against the couch cushions.

"Probably Madagascar," Angel mused. "Seeing the lemurs was pretty neat."

"Lemurs?" Buffy repeated, slightly awed. "That must have been amazing."

"It was," Angel agreed whole-heartedly. It definitely had been one of his favorite trips. "Madagascar is the only place in the world to see them. Well, other than zoos."

"Tell me about them," she requested, tucking her knees up tighter underneath her while trying to stifle a yawn.

So he did. He revisited the trip in his mind, telling her about wandering through the forest, seeing the silly looking animals traipsing through the canopy, hearing their high squealing calls. And he talked about how in some villages the lemurs were virtually domesticated because their habitat had merged with the villages. They begged for food, leaped on his shoulder. He also told of the other problems facing the species other than habitat destruction. About how the isolation of family groups led to inbreeding that caused physical malformations. He'd seen more than one of the furry creatures missing eyes.

Buffy listened to it all, amused by the tale, and saddened by it as well. She wished she could see something like that. She wished she could go to Madagascar, go anywhere other than Sunnydale. But it was nice to hear him talk of his travels. And soon, his calming voice lulled her into sleep.

Angel saw her eyes drift shut, but kept talking softly. Even though he knew she was asleep, he moved on to the horrible trip to Antarctica where he'd frozen his ass off. Someday, he'd tell her again when she was awake.

After ten minutes, he trailed off, and simply watched her sleep. It wasn't long after he'd stopped that Angel saw her expression change. The muscles in her face tensed, her hands clenched where they sat in her lap. A frown formed on her face as her body shifted restlessly. A nightmare, he thought. She'd told him she had them. He was just about to try to wake her up gently when her shout sounded through the quiet room.

"No!" Her eyes shot open and she pressed herself further into the corner of the couch. Wild eyes darted around the room, her heavy breaths making her chest heave.

Shifting over on the couch, Angel carefully took one of her hands, clasped it in his. "Shh, it's okay. It was just a dream."

She stared at him, her eyes slowly focusing, her breathing beginning to return to normal. "Angel?" she whispered, blinked at him.

"Yeah. You fell asleep," he explained softly.

"I...I had a nightmare," she said dejectedly, holding back a sob.

"It's okay," Angel repeated, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb.

"No." She shook her head, squeezed her eyes shut. "The never go away," she murmured sadly, a tear sneaking down her cheek.

More tears followed, and needing to do something, Angel pulled her close. When she didn't fight him, he rested her head on his shoulder. Her choked sobs shook her body, but he did the best he could to sooth her. He stroked her back, murmured soothing words.

After a few minutes, her sobs calmed, and she sniffled loudly. "I'm sorry," she said tiredly. "I didn't mean to cry all over you."

"I didn't mind," he answered honestly. "It must be hard," he continued, referring to the nightmares.

She nodded, sighed heavily. All she wanted was to be able to sleep without being haunted in her dreams. It wasn't until then that she fully realized that she was in Angel's arms. She could feel his hand tracing up and down her spine. But she didn't feel fear as she had often felt after the rape. There was nothing about Angel that made her feel fear. He made her feel like Buffy. Just Buffy. It was tempting to just stay there with his arm holding her to him.

"I should go home," she finally said.

"Okay." Angel slid his arm from around her back, took her hand. "I'll walk with you."

Buffy smiled at him, glad to have just a few more minutes of his time. Together, they left the house and headed down the beach and into the path through woods that led up onto the cliffs and her house.

* * *

TBC 


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13

* * *

**

Angel stood in the center of his living room and stared at his couch. He had to be nuts. And he'd told himself that a number of times since he'd gotten home from work. Temporary insanity, that's what it was. It had to be. There was no other way to explain it.

Walking over to the couch, he stared down at the little black ball of fur. A kitten. Good grief, what had he been thinking? He didn't know anything about taking care of animals. He'd never in his life had a pet before. It hadn't been possible when he was traveling so much. He liked animals, and cats, just fine, but he didn't know a thing about how to take care of it. So why in the world had he agreed to take it? Because he was a sucker, that's why.

One of the copy editors had brought several kittens around the building today, saying they were free and that she needed to find a home for them. He'd been intent on saying no. He was sure of it. But then the young woman had thrust the sleeping kitten into his arms, and he'd been unable to hand it back. So now he had a kitten.

As if sensing its new master's thoughts, the fuzzy ball of black fur lifted its head, stared at Angel, then rolled over on its side. Angel chuckled and bent down to scratch its belly. The kitten purred, batted at his arm, and Angel sighed. It really was cute.

"I guess you're probably hungry," he said to it, scooping it up and holding it against his chest.

Together, they walked into the kitchen where Angel had placed the bags from the pet store. He'd stopped there after work, knowing he'd need food, a litter box, some toys, and whatever else cats needed. When he'd left the store, his pocket had been quite a bit lighter, and he'd had several bags hanging from his arm. He told himself afterward that the kitten really had needed the catnip mouse, the balls with bells in them, the feather thing to chase around, and a really fluffy fleece bed. The kitten wouldn't want for anything, that was for sure.

Angel began digging through the bags, looking for the cat food he knew he'd bought, all the while holding the kitten in the other hand. So occupied in his search, he almost didn't hear the knock on back door. But he heard it, and without and turning around, he knew who was there. So he pulled his hand out of the bag he'd been searching, faced the door, and smiled.

Just as she'd done three nights before, Buffy stood on the other side, waiting with uncertainty in her eyes. He spared only a moment's thought for the fact that it was only nine at night, just past sunset and not her normal time for her beach walks. That was something to think about later.

"Come in," he told her, still smiling.

Buffy cautiously pulled open the screen door, and took a step into the kitchen. "I'm not bothering you, am I?" she asked.

"No, not at all. I was just-."

"Oh!" she exclaimed, interrupting him without a second thought. "What's that?" Buffy pointed to the little wriggly ball of black fur held in Angel's right hand against his chest.

"A kitten," he answered, and turned his body slightly so that the kitten's face could be seen by Buffy. Her eyes brightened, and the most genuine smile he'd ever seen on her appeared instantly. She cooed at the kitten, stroked its soft ears. The simple pleasure shown on her face made Angel instantly glad he'd taken the cat. He'd have taken five cats if it would make her happy.

"Wanna hold...," Angel trailed off, frowned, as he suddenly realized he had no idea whether the kitten was male or female. He rolled it onto its belly, peered contemplatively. "Her. Wanna hold her?"

"Of course," she answered, happily taking the kitten out of his hand and cuddling it against her cheek. When the kitten mewled near her ear, Buffy laughed and tickled its nose.

"I, uh, bought her some toys and stuff," he stated, gesturing to the bag.

Buffy peered at the five bags curiously. "Did you buy enough?"

He shrugged, not wanting to admit he'd been a total sucker for a ball of fur. "Here," he grabbed the bags, began setting on the floor. "You can help me go through all of it."

Complying happily, Buffy dropped down to the floor, setting the kitten on her lap. Within moments, she was pulling packages out of the bag, and taking toys out of their wrappers. Each one she showed to the kitten, waggling a cat nip mouse in front of its nose or running the weird looking feather thing over its ears.

Angel watched, more than just a little bewildered. In the span of a few short minutes, the shy, nervous, fearful Buffy that he'd encountered previously had been replaced by a smiling and giggling young woman. The difference was night and day. It was just further proof to him that she had yet to be completely beaten. The real Buffy was still lurking inside, and in a carefree moment such as this, he was getting a chance to she her. It made him feel lucky. So he scooted closer and helped her empty out the bags.

Buffy held up one of the items, looked at it then looked at Angel. "Cute," she chuckled, not bothering to hide her amusement at the lime green ceramic food dish with a grinning cartoon cat painted on the inside.

"It was either that," Angel relayed solemnly, "Or the one spotted like a cow. I thought this one was more interesting."

"I see your point," she agreed and began opening a container of kitten food while Angel stood and went to the sink to wash the dish. "I hope you like seafood medley," she said to the kitten.

After drying the dish, Angel sat back down and dumped the food into the bowl. They watched as the kitten, drawn by the smell, cautiously crept to the food. She circled the dish, bobbed her head then dared to take a nibble. Assured the food was good, the kitten dug in with a vengeance.

"She's adorable, Angel," Buffy said, her smile still brilliant, unguarded, and free of the past.

"Yeah, she is pretty cute," he concurred though his eyes were solely directed at Buffy. She looked so happy, and over the simply pleasure of a kitten. He made a mental note to take the young copy editor one of those mocha drinks for foisting the animal on him.

"What are you going to name her," she asked, reaching out to stroke the cat's fluffy tale.

"I don't know. I hadn't thought about it." He paused, considering, then said, "Why don't you pick a name?"

"Me?" she replied, shocked. He wanted her to name his kitten. The very idea was almost baffling.

"You'd probably pick something better than I would," he explained with a smile.

"Hmm...if you're sure...," she trailed off, uncertain.

Angel nodded, so Buffy turned her attention back to the kitten. She pursed her lips contemplatively as she studied the animal. It was pure black, not a stitch of any other color, except for the eyes. They were a bright, lively green. It was the solid black that struck her most, though. So dark, darker than the midnight sky she often found herself walking under.

"Shadow," she finally decided on then looked to Angel to see his reaction. She hoped he liked it and didn't laugh at her or think she was silly.

"I like it," he replied swiftly. "It's perfect."

She smiled, almost shyly, at his seemingly pleased acceptance of the name. Not for the first time, she wondered why he was being so nice to her, and why she found herself so comfortable around him. It defied her past experiences. But she enjoyed sitting here with him. So she rejected all thoughts of asking him why for fear of annoying him or making him send her away.

They sat for another half hour, unpacking Shadow's plethora of supplies and showing all the fun toys Angel had bought for her. Buffy's laughter rang throughout the kitchen frequently. Angel couldn't have been happier about the situation. The tiny black kitten seemed to have been just what she needed to help wipe away some of the dark cloud that constantly hung over her head, if even for only a little while. For a short time, they could both forget that things weren't normal.

Shaking his head, Angel stared down at Shadow, who'd curled up in a ball and fallen asleep on one of the plastic shopping bags from the pet store. "I guess I wasted my money on the cushy cat bed," he said in mock dismay. "That thing is nicer than my bed."

"I'm sure she'd be happy to share it with you," Buffy joked, her lips quirking as she tried to hold back a laugh.

"I think I'll stick to my bed. I don't think I'd fit on that one," he replied and nodded to the circular bed. Both laughed at the silly idea of Angel curling up on the two foot circle of fleece.

While Angel went up to the attic to search through his boxes of things for a basket to put the cat's things in, Buffy remained downstairs, playing some more with Shadow. When he returned, Angel, anxious to spend just a little more time with Buffy, offered her some dinner.

They sat at the kitchen table, eating turkey sandwiches and potato chips while watching the kitten bat a ball with a bell in it around the tiled floor. The mood was light, thoughts of murder, rape, and harassment far from either's minds. But all too soon, the meal was over.

"I guess I should go back," Buffy said reluctantly. She didn't want to leave. Angel treated her like a normal person, and he was so nice and fun to be with. She didn't want to leave him to go back to her third floor prison. But she had to.

Angel walked her to the screen door, stopped before opening it. He didn't want her to go, didn't want to face the prospect of the rest of the evening alone in his house. He'd been obsessed with her before even their first meeting when he'd only known the tragic circumstances of her life, and her supposed death. Now that he'd spent time with her, it seemed his obsession was steadily growing.

Just inside the door, they both stood unmoving, reluctant to part. Without thinking too much about it, Angel reached down, gently took one of her hands in his. "You'll come back soon?" he asked softly.

Buffy stared down at her hand gripped in his much larger one. His fingers were warm and strong on hers. A dizzying feeling churned in her stomach, one she wasn't entirely familiar with. She raised her eyes upwards, saw him watching her silently, intently.

"Yeah," she whispered, unable to draw her gaze away from his.

Angel's mind seemed to switch off. Any sense of logic or reason he had fled. Only one thing seemed to be able to permeate his brain. So slowly, ever so slowly, he lowered his head until his lips were a scant inch from hers. He hovered there for a moment before touching his mouth to hers.

He didn't know which one of them sighed at that first touch. It could have been him, it could have been her. Or it could have been both of them.

The kiss was hesitant, gentle. They touched only at their mouths, and at the hand Angel still held in his. But it was the touch of lips that held precedence. Angel rubbed his lips lightly on hers, learning their soft, warm texture. He didn't press, he didn't force. Just savored.

Her response was slow to come, but he felt the tightened grip of her hand, the slight tilt of her head backwards to accommodate him. The silent encouragement had him raising his unfettered hand to the back of her neck, cupping the soft skin. It wasn't until he heard the barely audible moan coming from Buffy that he realized what he was doing.

His brain clicked back into place with a resounding snap. It took all his self control not to jump away from her. Or to pull her closer. So he gently eased back, his eyes on her the entire time. He watched as her eyelids fluttered opened and she stared at him with a warm shyness that humbled him.

Giving her hand a light squeeze, he let go, took another step back. "I'll see you soon," he managed to say.

Buffy nodded, unable to find her voice to say anything. She backed up a step, bumped into the screen door. She forced herself to smile at him before quickly opening the door and dashing outside. It wasn't until she was well away from the house that she let out the breath she hadn't even known she'd been holding.

Her quick steps took her into the woods, where she abruptly stopped, leaned back against a tall tree. Her heart was pounding, and not from her rapid retreat from Angel's house. It was the kiss. Angel had kissed her. He'd kissed her unlike she'd ever been kissed before in her life. Shocked and amazed, she raised her clenched hands, pressed them over her speeding heart.

Back inside the house, Angel hadn't moved an inch. His eyes were still trained on the door Buffy had just fled from. He worried that he'd scared her. But she'd smiled at him before leaving. That had to be a good thing, right? He didn't know. The last thing he'd planned on doing was kissing her. His desire had gotten the best of him.

Rubbing a hand over his face, Angel walked over to the counter, leaned back against it. What had be been thinking? Well, he hadn't been thinking. But, God, all he'd been able to think about at that moment was kissing her. She'd looked so sweet, so wonderful, staring up at him with her green eyes. He hadn't been able to resist. In the future, he'd have to learn how to. The yearning in his body would just have to be put on hold. Now was really not the time to be thinking about what she'd feel like under him, her silky skin pressing against him. No, he really, really shouldn't be thinking things like that, especially give her past circumstances. His hormones would just have to take a very long, very cold shower.

Angel paced the kitchen, trying to put all thoughts of kissing Buffy out of his mind. Think about anything else, he told himself. Anything but Buffy's soft, sweet mouth. He groaned, nearly gave in to the urge bang his head against a wall.

A crash coming from the direction of his office ceases Angel's pacing. He frowned, his attention going on alert. After a second's pause, he started toward his office, stopped. He remembered that he was in Sunnydale, and the things that had happened in this town previously. Warily, he glanced around the kitchen. He didn't bother to wonder if he was overreacting as he grabbed the largest knife from the butcher's block. There was nothing wrong with being cautious.

He walked with light footsteps down the hall and came to a halt just outside his office. The soft light of the floor lamp he'd left on shown through the doorway. Slowly, he poked his head forward. And laughed. There, sitting on top of his desk, was the kitten, her green eyes peering at him in what he suspected was amusement.

Angel approached the desk still chuckling. He wondered how the kitten had managed to get herself all the way up on his desk. Scooping Shadow up, he glanced around at his desk. It appeared as though she'd knocked a few things over during her little adventure. He righted the pencil holder, replaced the pencils. Some papers had been shuffled around too so he stacked them back in a pile. The folder on top caught his eye. It was the one he'd placed all the internet articles on the murders of Buffy's family in.

The sight of the folder turned all of his thoughts away from kissing Buffy and shifted them to the puzzle of what had happened to her. He skirted his desk and sat down in his chair, placing the kitten in his lap. He realized at that moment that whatever his growing feelings for Buffy were, none of it mattered until her past was resolved.

Opening the folder, Angel spread the print-outs of the articles across his desk. He'd been doing some thinking about all he'd read, and all he'd been told by Willow, Spike, and Xander. And the more he thought about what he knew, the more he began to realize that there was quite a bit that didn't make sense, that just didn't fit.

Needing the distraction, and wanting to get all his thoughts out, he grabbed a pen and a notebook from one of the desk drawers. With Shadow curled up on his lap, he began jotting down his notes and ideas.

* * *

Buffy approached the back door of her house with a light heart and lighter steps. She still couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that Angel had kissed her. It seemed so impossible, but oh, so wonderful at the same time. Her heart still felt like it was going to pound out of her chest.

She stopped after climbing up the four steps onto the deck at the back of the house. Her eyes closed and her smile beamed brightly as she breathed in the night air. Opening her eyes again, she started toward the door again, all the while her mind still racing. She hadn't felt like this since...since...her steps stopped again.

Since before Cameron. Before the rape.

But it wasn't that memory that halted her movement, or caused the smile to leave her face. It was the fact that for a few precious hours, she hadn't even thought about it or all that had come afterwards. Those memories, those torments, were always at the forefront of her mind. They never left. But tonight they had. Tonight, while she'd sat with Angel on his kitchen floor, playing with his kitten, she'd forgotten. No, not forgotten, just not thought about it. She'd never forget.

The realization that she had gone for a few hours without thinking of it was almost like a heavy weight lifting off of her. She'd always lived with those memories, thought they'd always be there. But tonight they hadn't been. She'd been able to exist without them. It was freeing, and it gave her hope that maybe someday they would only be there in the back of her mind. Maybe someday she'd be able to live again.

Feeling a resolve that she hadn't felt in years, Buffy continued to the door, stepped quietly into the house. And found herself face to face with her father.

* * *

TBC 


	15. Chapter 14

_I must apologize again for the delay between chapters. Things seem to keep popping up that prevent me from keeping this fic on schedule. I wasn't feeling well for a few days, and then there was a sudden crisis with my family's remaining dog. Hopefully, I'll be able to get back to more frequent postings now. But anyway, sorry for the delay, and also I need to say thanks to everyone who sent feedback on the last chapter as I didn't get a chance to reply to emails. Your comments were much appreciated._

_And lastly, my thoughts go out to all of you in London. I hope you and your loved ones are well._

_Isis FG

* * *

_

**Chapter 14**

The happy mood Buffy had carried with her from her visit with Angel and his new kitten plummeted the moment she stepped into the kitchen of her house and saw her father seated at the table staring at her. One look at his face, the angry, accusing eyes, the tight, grim frown, and every ounce of happiness fled. All the pain, all the heartache, was back in an instant.

She wanted to run. She wanted to turn around and run, far away from the house, from the memories. From her father. She wanted to go back to Angel and his kitten and the pretty house on the beach.

Emotions boiled inside Buffy. This man was her father. She loved him unequivocally. He'd read her stories when she was a little girl, brought her ice cream when she was sick. He'd been a man she'd always adored.

As she stood there staring at him, though, a burning anger was building within her. For four years she'd lived in a daze and allowed him to keep her locked up on the third floor of the house like she was his greatest shame. It hadn't mattered before. There had been no reason to let it matter. She had been too lost in the memories and the pain. But now...now things were different. Now there was Angel. And there were her friends. The ones who had believed her dead. Because of her father.

"Where have you been?" Giles demanded.

Instinct had her shrinking back against his harsh words. She started to cast her eyes downwards, to open her mouth to apologize, but she stopped herself. She was tired of all of this. Of caving to his demands, of living in a prison. No more, she told herself.

Standing tall, she met her father's eyes. "I was out," she answered.

The strong tone of her voice gave Giles pause. He wasn't used to such firm words from Buffy. He wasn't used to words from her period. She only very rarely spoke to him or answered his questions. "Out?" he repeated in disbelief.

"Yes," Buffy replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

Giles stood, met her challenging eyes. "Haven't I asked you not to leave the house?"

The gentle statement almost made Buffy falter. Almost. "Yes, you have," she affirmed. "But I'm tired of staying here all the time."

"You're...," Giles trailed off in obvious shock. For a moment he only stood there, gaping at Buffy. This wasn't the girl he was used to, the one who had lived as a shell of herself for the past six years, since the rape. This woman reminded him of who Buffy had once been. Vibrant, independent, and strong. But he couldn't let himself be sidetracked.

"Buffy," he began as he walked over to stand in front of her. "It's imperative that you stay in the house as much as possible. I have tried to overlook your jaunts to the beach in the middle of the night, but I cannot stand by and let you leave the house during the daytime."

Her lips quivered and tears formed in her eyes as she stared up into her father's eyes while he imposed his life sentence on her. She sucked in a breath, willed the tears not to fall. "Do you hate me that much?" she whispered.

"Hate you?" Giles repeated. "I don't know-."

Buffy cut him off as if she hadn't heard him. "Are you that ashamed of me, of all that's happened?"

Shocked was a mild word for what Giles was feeling. He'd had no idea that his daughter believed him to hate her or was ashamed of her. "No, Buffy. I don't hate you," he said softly, lovingly. "You are my daughter. I could never think ill of you."

"Then why?" she pleaded, her voice quivering. "Why do you keep me trapped here?"

The heartbreaking appeal was like knife to his soul. Pulling his glasses off, Giles paced across the kitchen, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He'd long suspected that Buffy had no memory of the night Joyce, Dawn, and Owen had been murdered. Oh, she knew they had been killed, but he'd been given to believe that anything beyond that had been wiped from her mind. She didn't remember what she'd done.

Long hours, days, he'd spent agonizing over how to handle it. She had already been so fragile because of the rape and the ensuing treatment by the town and its people. And she'd broken once, that night while her family sat watching a movie. He just hadn't been able to push her, to ask her, about what had happened. So he'd said nothing. Nothing at all.

Not that it would have done any good, he supposed. For the last four years, his daughter had been virtually silent, saying very little him. Only a couple times had he dared to mention the deaths of his wife and other two children. And when he had, she'd never responded, going almost catatonic at the merest mention of that night. So he'd never pushed. And she'd never known why he kept her here in the house. A fault, maybe, if the action had led her to believe he was ashamed of her, or hated her. But now it appeared the time had come to reveal all. He only hoped she could handle it, though he doubted there was any way a person, let alone Buffy, could handle being told they'd killed their family.

Before he could form his response, Buffy spoke again. "Why did you let everyone believe that I was dead, that I'd killed myself?"

"How did you know that?" Giles asked, confused because she had no way of knowing such a fact.

"Angel told me," she answered honestly.

"Angel?" Giles frowned, tried to figure out when his new employee could have told Buffy such a thing, and why. "You've spoken with Angel?"

"Yes. He...he's nice to me," she said quickly, averting her eyes. When she looked up, her eyes were again pleading. "Why, Daddy? Why did you do it?"

"Buffy," he began with a sigh, hating what he was about to tell her. "I asked you to stay in the house because if anyone knew you were here, that you were alive, they would arrest you." That was the short answer, he thought, and called himself a coward.

"Arrest me?" she repeated, her brow furrowing in confusion. "What for?"

"For murder," Giles responded bluntly, then cursed himself as shocked horror filled Buffy's eyes.

She opened her mouth to speak, but words failed her. Murder? She would be arrested for murder? It made no sense. Why would her father think that? Why would anyone think that? She hadn't killed anybody. There was no possible...

Her thoughts trailed off as a new horror dawned on her. "No," she gasped, stumbling back a step. She shook her head, trying to force the unfathomable thoughts from her mind. It couldn't be true. It just couldn't. But yet...as she looked up into her father's eyes. She knew it was. She knew he believed it.

"Buffy," Giles said softly, taking a step toward her. He wanted, needed, to comfort her, though his emotions were torn. She was his daughter, and he loved her, but the pain at losing his wife and Dawn and Owen, by her hand, threatened to overrule.

Seeing his advance, Buffy backed away from him, her eyes darting around the room in a silent plea for anything but the truth. "No," she whispered again. And then again. "No."

"Buffy, please," he begged, taking another step in her direction.

Her only desperate thought was to escape, to get away from the accusation, the horrible truth, her father was pushing at her. She couldn't stay in this room, in this house. She couldn't look at him. As he took another step toward her, she bolted toward the door, dashing through it before Giles could even shout her name.

* * *

After an hour of reading through articles and jotting down notes, Angel tossed his pen down on his desk and reached up to rub his neck. He winced at the stiffness that had build from leaning over his work space, intent on the papers. He'd need to take a hot shower in hopes of erasing the protests of his muscles. Glancing at his watch, Angel groaned. It was getting late and he needed to get some sleep.

All of the articles he'd read and the notes he'd written were placed back into their folder before he stood from the desk and switched off the small lamp. He wondered idly where Shadow had wandered off to as she had abandoned him not long after he'd started working. He'd have to find her before he went to bed.

Strolling through the house toward the kitchen, Angel shut off unneeded lights and gazed around for the kitten. He'd yet to find her by the time he entered the kitchen. One look at the supplies he'd bought for his new pet, though, had him chuckling. There was Shadow, curled up on the fluffy bed he'd bought her. The thing completely dwarfed her in size, but she looked rather comfortable. He would have to take it up to his bedroom for her to sleep on.

Just as Angel was about to reach down and scoop the kitten up, he thought he heard a noise coming from the back porch. Frowning, he walked over to door and peered outside. Seeing nothing but darkness, he flipped on the porch light. Though the area was now lit, he still saw nothing. But he heard the noise again.

He debated for a moment the merits of walking outside after hearing a strange noise, but decided to check around anyway. The door creaked as he pushed it open, the noise sounding loudly through the mostly quiet night. His eyes darted around nervously as he took a few steps out onto the deck. And still he could not find the source of the noise, nor could he hear it anymore.

Probably just an animal, he told himself. There was likely plenty of wildlife in the area. It could have been a raccoon, a deer, or numerous other things. Or it could have been his imagination. Shaking his head, Angel figured he might as well forget about it and go take a shower before he went to sleep.

He turned, and stopped dead. The dim light kept him from seeing clearly, but he could make out the distinct shape of a person seated against the back wall of the house. Instinctively, Angel took a step back, wary of whoever was hiding in wait for him. In this town, you couldn't be too sure of anything.

As he debated his options, though, he thought he could see long blonde hair streaming down around the person's face. Buffy? He took several steps closer, just to be sure. Squinting, he gazed down at the still form. Her back was pressed against the wall, her knees pulled tightly up to her chest and her face hidden against her legs. The blonde hair was enough of a give away, but the clothes were the same as she had worn earlier.

Alarm registered first. Aside from the fact that she shouldn't have been sitting there at all, she hadn't moved even an inch in the few minutes he had been staring at her. Afraid that she was hurt, he quickly crouched down next to her and softly called her name.

No answer came, not even a flicker of movement. His worry leaped up several degrees. "Buffy," he said again, and placed a hand on her shoulder. Her recognition of his presence came not in the raising of her head, or the sound of her voice, but the flinching of her body from the touch of his hand on her shoulder. Angel quickly removed his hand, not wanting to frighten her.

"Buffy? What's wrong?" he asked, trying to hide the urgency in his voice and fighting the urge to touch her again.

Slowly, her head finally rose from her knees. She stared at him blankly, saying nothing. Even in the dim light, he could make out the sight of dried tears on her cheeks. It was the vacant look in her eyes that worried him more. Still, he scanned her body, checking for any signs that she may have been hurt. Seeing no blood or torn clothes, he tried to assure himself that she was physically fine.

"What's wrong, baby? Why are you crying?" he asked quietly, holding her eyes with his.

She blinked, seemed to focus on his face. "Angel?" she whispered in a raspy voice. Before he could say or do anything, she burst into fresh tears.

Utterly terrified by her reaction, Angel did the only thing he could think to do. He pulled her into his arms, cradling her body gently against his. Her arms locked around his neck, pressing her tighter against him. He tried to soothe her with soft words, but her heavy sobs failed to lessen.

Sliding a hand under her knees, he stood with a minimal effort. With Buffy in his arms, he entered the house and strode to the living room. He considered placing her on the couch, but the death lock she had on his neck with her arms gave him pause. So instead, he took a seat himself, keeping her within the embrace of his arms.

His frantic mind searched for what to do, what to say, but nothing seemed right. He didn't even know what had upset her. She was lost in the sea of her emotions. All he could do was try to comfort her as her body-shaking sobs echoed through him. Whatever had happened had to have hurt her tremendously to cause this reaction.

He didn't know how long he'd sat there with her crying, her tears soaking his shirt. He did nothing, said nothing, just held her. Finally, her sobs began to taper off, changing to miserable sniffles, then pure silence. The tension in her body eased, and her breathing evened out. It took him only a second to realize she'd cried herself to sleep.

What now? Angel wondered. What in the world was he supposed to do with an upset young woman who had cried herself to sleep in his arms? He sighed and contemplated his options. There wasn't much he could do, he quickly figured out. So he stood carefully, not wanting to wake her from the rest she probably needed.

Silently, Angel climbed the stairs to the second floor and strode down the hall to one of the guest bedrooms. It was sparsely furnished, so far. But there was a bed, covered with the brand new linens he'd recently ordered. Somehow, he managed to shift her in his arms without waking her and pull back the covers. He placed her gently on the bed and pulled the soft cotton comforter up over her body. All the while, she never stirred.

Standing beside the bed, he ran a hand through his hair, wondering what he was supposed to do next. He wasn't used to this sort of thing. True, he had a sister, but Fred had never been apt to fits of crying. This was completely out of his realm. He didn't know whether he should leave her alone to sleep, or if he should stay.

The choice was taken out of his hands when he heard the frantic knocking on the front door. His eyes quickly snapped back to Buffy, but it appeared as though not even the noise could wake her from her exhausted sleep. He spared her one more glance before rushing out of the room and down the stairs.

As soon as Angel opened the door, Giles pushed passed him, nearly knocking Angel into the wall.

"Is Buffy here?" the older man demanded loudly.

Angel nearly groaned out loud. This night was just getting worse by the minute. It was suddenly obvious, though, that whatever had sent Buffy to his back porch in tears had something to do with her father. Otherwise, Giles would not be pounding on his door in the middle of the night.

"Yes, she's here," Angel answered reluctantly. He was tempted to tell his boss she wasn't, but it would have been too cruel to leave him worrying about her whereabouts.

"Oh thank God," Giles breathed out heavily, his body slumping. "Where is she?"

"Upstairs. Sleeping," he clarified at Giles' sharp look. "She was upset about something. What happened?"

"Damnit!" Giles cursed violently. "This is all my fault!"

Angel backed away from the agitated man. He'd never seen Giles so animated before. "What's going on?" he asked again.

Wearily, Giles removed his glasses, rubbed at his eyes. When he looked back at Angel, his eyes were tired and guilty. "I was worried, earlier today, when I realized she'd left the house," he began to explain. "When she returned, I was harsh with her. I just...," he sighed, closed his eyes for a moment. "It's dangerous for her to be out, and I jumped at her about it. But I..."

"You what?" Angel prodded.

"I never told her why," Giles blurted out.

"You never...I'm not quite sure I'm understanding you," Angel stated slowly, trying to piece together what he was being told.

Giles paced around the room for a minute before answering. Finally, he faced Angel again. "As I long suspected, and Buffy confirmed tonight, she has no memory of what happened...that night. She only knew that her mother and siblings where dead."

"Good God!" Angel exclaimed harshly. "She didn't know she was held responsible?"

"No," Giles affirmed.

"And now she knows," Angel concluded, shaking his head. It all made sense now. If he'd have found out he was blamed for killing his family, he'd have fallen apart to. It was a wonder she didn't do something drastic. But instead, she'd come to him. He'd think about that fact later.

"Yes, now she knows," Giles repeated. "We got into a...well, an argument. She wanted to know why I wouldn't let her leave. I shouldn't have told her or thought of a better way to do it. I just didn't know what to say to her."

Angel leaned back against the door, a multitude of thoughts running through his head. This was just one huge mess, and somehow he was now right in the damn middle of it. Murders, ghosts, corrupt politicians. It was unreal. If he was smart, he'd get the hell away from all of it. But he couldn't. Not when Buffy was upstairs, lulled to sleep by her own tears. Not when Buffy was part of his life.

"She would have found out sooner or later," Angel relented, knowing it wouldn't ease any of Giles' inner pain.

"I know," Giles agreed. "But I should have handled it better. I've been looking for her everywhere after she ran out of the house. I was about to give up when I remembered she'd told me she was with you this afternoon."

The slightly accusing look Giles tossed at him had Angel nearly groaning. Apparently, his boss wasn't quite happy that his troubled young daughter was spending time at his house. "She's come by a few times," Angel said vaguely.

"Yes, well...," Giles trailed off, his eyes gazing up the stairs to where Angel had said Buffy was.

"She'll be fine for tonight," Angel assured him. "I'll keep an eye on her."

Giles hesitated. Common sense warred with the need to keep his daughter safe. He knew Angel would protect her, though. So he relented and said his goodbyes, asking Angel to keep him informed and making sure he understand how imperative it was that no one know about Buffy.

The warning was unneeded, but Angel took it in stride. He knew Giles was just worried. He would have been too if he'd been in Giles' situation.

Once he was alone again, Angel thought for only a minute before picking up the phone. It was time to take the offensive. It was time to help Buffy.

* * *

TBC 


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15

* * *

**

Standing in the middle of his living room, gazing at the three half-asleep faces of Willow, Spike, and Xander, Angel couldn't help but feel a bit guilty. It was, after all, nearly three in the morning. He hadn't considered the time when he had called them. The only thing that had been on his mind was doing something about this entire mess. He couldn't stand to see Buffy being hurt by it all. And it was time for something to be done about it.

Buffy deserved to be free of all these accusations and the shame. She hadn't done anything wrong. He was as sure of that as anything in his life. She was an innocent who had been caught up in a tragic mess that was not in the least her fault. Angel only hoped that he would be able to help her. In order to do that, he had to get the ball rolling, and he had a good idea how to do that.

"No offense, man," Xander said, then yawned loudly. "But are you going to just stand there or are you going to tell us why exactly we're here in the dead of night."

Angel paced across the room and then back to where he'd been standing. "It's about Buffy."

"Buffy?" Willow stated sharply, her body poising to leap in case her friend needed help. "What's wrong? Is she okay?"

"She's...been better," he settled on saying. "She's upstairs asleep."

"Upstairs?" Spike questioned, one eyebrow raised.

"It's not like that," Angel quickly defended himself, though his heart gave a hard thump. He wouldn't exactly mind if it was like that. "She had a...well, a fight, I guess, with Giles and came here. She fell asleep so I put her in the guest room."

"She fought with Giles?" Willow repeated, a little perplexed. From what Giles had said, they barely spoke. But more... "Why would she come here?"

Fidgeting minutely, Angel wondered what he should say to them. They didn't know about his meetings with Buffy. Maybe he shouldn't tell them about those. In the end, he decided the truth was the best. There'd been too many lies already.

"Buffy has been coming to visit me once in a while," he finally said. "I saw her on the beach one night and we talked. Since then, she's come by once in a while, and we just...talk."

Spike saw the faint blush creep up Angel's face and wondered if 'talking' was all that had gone on. He contemplated questioning Angel about it, but opted not to. Angel seemed like a good guy, and if he was helping Buffy in any way then he would keep his mouth shut. For now.

"She talked to you?" Willow asked, hurt radiating from her voice. Buffy hadn't said a word to her that day they had gone to the house.

"Yeah," Angel answered, then realized why Willow seemed offended. "She talked to me because until recently, she'd thought you...all or you...had abandoned her. All she knew was that none of her friends talked to her or came to see her anymore."

"All she knew?" Spike leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared intensely at Angel. "What do you mean that's all she knew?"

Angel sighed, rubbed his forehead. "It seems that Giles didn't tell her anything. She didn't know what the people believed about the murders, about her, or what Giles had caused people to think."

Willow gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Xander sank back on the couch, muttering under his breath while Spike jumped up to pace around the room. Angel understood what they were feeling. He'd felt the same way.

"Man, that's just...that sucks," Xander mumbled.

"Thank you for stating the obvious," Spike snapped at him.

"Don't you two start," Willow ordered, glaring at both of them. Both acquiesced guiltily. Turning back to Angel, Willow asked, "She didn't know about any of what's been going on?"

"No," he replied, taking a seat on one of the remaining chairs in the living room. "She knew about Mrs. Giles and Owen and Dawn, but not that it had been deemed a murder/suicide."

"And she found out tonight," Spike assumed.

"Yeah," Angel confirmed with a sigh. "She was here for a little while, and I guess when she went home, she and Giles got into an argument. I don't know all the details, but apparently Buffy wanted to know why Giles kept her locked up in the house all the time."

"So Giles told her? Just like that?" Willow continued for Angel. At Angel's nod, she shook her head, her anger clear. "God, poor Buffy."

"No wonder she was upset," Xander mumbled, hurting for his friend and wishing there was something, anything, that he could do for her.

"What did she say to you afterwards?" Spike wanted to know.

"Nothing," Angel replied. "I was getting ready to go to bed and I thought I heard something outside so I went to check. She was sitting on the back porch crying. I have no idea how long she'd been there," he told them, then explained how she'd said nothing to him, only continued to cry and how he'd then taken her upstairs after she'd fallen asleep.

"Giles should have told her everything before," Willow stated firmly.

"How?" Spike questioned her. At Willow's glare, he shrugged and said, "I'm not saying he was right to keep quiet, but what was he supposed to say to her? You killed your family so I made them think you'd killed yourself as well and then kept you holed up in your house?"

"I guess he thought saying nothing was the lesser of the two evils," Xander interjected, his voice tired and slow.

"It doesn't really matter," Angel interrupted the discussion. "Now she knows, and obviously she's upset about it."

"Which is why you called us," Spike filled in, assuming that was the reason.

"Sort of," Angel corrected, pausing before he laid out his full reason.

"I want to prove Buffy is innocent."

Silence followed. None of the three friends had expected his affirmation. And to say that they were shocked would have been an understatement. Spike stared at Angel curiously, wondering what was in it for Angel. Willow and Xander merely frowned, wondering how in the world they would be able to do something like prove Buffy's innocence.

"I don't mean to be rude, Angel, but have you been drinking?" Spike asked, only half-joking.

"No," Angel denied. "I'm completely serious."

"But how?" Xander blurted out. "We're not cops or anything, and the real cops did an investigation and blamed Buffy."

"By real cops, I assume you mean the ones here in Sunnydale?" Angel questioned and continued without waiting for an answer. "The ones whose chief is the father of Buffy's rapist and who have already proved to be swayed by power and probably money?"

"Good point," Xander conceded.

"I'm guessing you have something in mind?" Spike asked Angel.

"Sort of," he answered and picked up the folder he'd set down on the coffee table before everyone had arrived. He set it on his lap, but didn't yet open it. "I've got a connection in law enforcement, someone outside Sunnydale. I think I could convince him to take a look at the case."

Willow thought about it for a moment, then shook her head. "You can't do that, Angel," she disagreed vehemently. "If you told them she was alive they would arrest her regardless. And what if she is still found guilty? We can't let her go to jail."

Picking up the folder again, Angel tapped on his leg. "I don't plan on him finding out she's alive. At least not until he has seen the evidence and he tells me what he thinks."

"What? You're just going to ask him to take a look at some random case?" Spike questioned doubtfully.

"I haven't figured out yet how I'll bring it up to him," Angel responded, still trying to work that one out in his head. "But I can almost guarantee that once he reads everything, he'll agree that something isn't right."

"Not that I'm disagreeing with you," Xander spoke up. "But what makes you think that?"

"Because the facts don't add up at all," Angel said simply.

"What are you talking about?" Willow wondered, her brow furrowing in confusion.

Opening the folder, Angel gazed down at his notes. He was silent for a moment, then explained. "When you and Spike first told me everything, I had a hard time believing Buffy could have killed her family. And then after meeting her and talking to her the few times she has visited, it seemed even more impossible. But I read over everything available, and now I'm positive. The few facts that I came across make it almost obvious that she couldn't have done it."

Angel waited for someone to say something, but his audience was silent. He looked up to see them all staring at him intently, waiting for him to go on. Willow was the only one who showed any outward sign of emotion with her hands clenching and unclenching in her lap. Spike appeared to be thinking mutely while Xander gazed at Angel with a frown on his face.

Since they were waiting for his explanation, he obliged. "Okay, first off, there's Buffy herself. You three probably knew her the best then, and none of you thought she'd done it, right?" he asked for confirmation. All three nodded in one form or another.

"I never thought she did it, but...," Xander trailed off, not sure if he should finish saying what was on his mind.

"Yeah," Angel nodded in agreement. "At the time, she wasn't quite-" He searched for the right word, and winced at the only one he could come up with. "Stable. But taking into account her emotional problems, that still didn't make her likely to be violent."

He looked straight at Willow and Spike whose attention he had fully. "You told me about that incident when you guys went out once, the one where she supposedly attacked some guys without provocation."

"But they were Cameron's friends, and Buffy had said they were the ones attacking her," Willow interjected.

"Exactly," Angel agreed completely. "So that can't really be counted. Other than that, was Buffy ever violent?"

"No!" Spike denied hotly and glared at Angel. "And it's bloody stupid of you to even ask.

"Sorry." Angel held up his hands in supplication. "I'm just trying to lay all the facts out first."

"Sorry," grumbled Spike, knowing he'd jumped the gun a bit.

Angel nodded his acceptance of the apology and shifted back to the original topic. "So it's safe to say Buffy had her problems, understandable ones at that, but she wasn't violent. That says a lot. It makes it much harder to believe that one night she just up and stabbed her family while watching movies and eating ice cream."

"There's no previous behavior to lead to it," Willow concluded and then added some of her own thoughts. "Especially towards her family. They meant the world to her. She would never have hurt them."

"Yeah," Xander seconded.

Spike settled back on the couch, pulling Willow closer to him and eyed Angel steadily. "What else have you got, mate? I can tell you're not done yet."

Taking out one of his pages of notes, Angel set it on his lap, tapped his fingers on the sheet. "There's not a lot of details about the murders in the newspaper articles I could find, but enough that two things stood out to me."

"All three bodies were found in the same room of the house," he began reciting the first of his theories. "The family room where they had been watching TV. Does anything strike you as strange about that?"

All three thought about his question. Xander scratched his chin, Willow narrowed eyes and Spike tapped his hand on his knee. But none appeared to come up with anything. Angel gave them another few seconds before giving his reasoning.

"They weren't all killed at the same exact moment, for obvious logistical reasons. So how did Buffy, a fairly petite, single person, manage to kill the three of them without at least one of them getting away?" he posed for his listeners.

Willow gaped at him while Spike muttered "Bloody hell," under his breath, then said more loudly, "You're damn right."

"There's no way she could have killed all three of them like that. They would have all just had to stand there and let her," Xander said in one of his rare insightful outbursts.

"And that makes no sense," Angel replied in agreement. "You'd have to think that at least one of them would have been able to get out of the room. But none of them did. They were all found where they'd originally been, as if, like Xander said, they'd just stood there and let Buffy attack them, doing absolutely nothing at all to defend themselves."

"I don't understand," Willow said quietly, her face pensive. The others looked at her oddly. "Oh, not that. I get what you're saying. But shouldn't the police have realized this? Why didn't they take that into account?"

"And that," Angel responded, "Is the sixty-four thousand dollar question." Angel could see the wheels turning in Spike's head, but he held him off from saying anything yet. "Let me throw this out there, too."

He took another sheet of paper out of the folder, one he'd written more notes on. "Dawn and Owen were killed with fatal wounds, the throat and heart. They both died fairly quickly. That's not the case with Joyce."

"Her wrists were slit," Willow cut in, and a light began to dawn in her eyes about where Angel was heading.

"Which is not necessary a fatal injury," Angel continued on. "It can be, but it's not incapacitating. So how did she manage to die from that? There's no mention of any other injuries, like being knocked out, that would have hindered her or aided her death. So logically, she should have been able to do something, like call for an ambulance, to save herself. She didn't though. She just supposedly laid there on the ground and let herself bleed to death"

"I never thought about that before," whispered Willow softly, hating herself for never coming to the conclusions Angel had. If she had, maybe she could have helped Buffy.

"I read a lot of crime novels," Angel said by way of explanation of how he'd picked out the conflicting details. "It's possible there's a way to justify how Joyce died of her wounds without getting away, but there's no way to tell without more information on the crime scene. And that," he turned to Willow and posed, "is how I'm hoping you can help."

"Me?" Willow squeaked.

"Yeah. You're good with computers right?" he asked her.

"Well, yeah. Sort of," she answered shyly.

Angel nodded, tucked his notes back into the folder. "I was hoping you could try breaking into the police department's computer files and retrieve anything related to Buffy. The more information I have to take to my friend, the better chance we have of clearing Buffy."

Before Willow could respond, a noise caught the group's attention. Each and every pair of eyes whipped toward the doorway. Standing half in the shadows was Buffy. Angel could see enough of her face to be able to detect the tears streaking down her cheek. He mentally cursed himself for not being more careful knowing she was in the house. Before he could stand and go to her, she stepped into the room.

* * *

TBC 


	17. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16

* * *

**

Eavesdropping had been wrong. Buffy knew it was. It had seemed impossible to do otherwise, though. She'd woken up alone in a strange, darkened room on the second floor of what she was guessing was Angel's house. So after some debate, she'd decided to find Angel.

The previous few hours were little more than a blur in her mind. She remembered going home and then...well, she'd never forget what her father had said to her, told her. But after that, things were kind of hazy. She knew somehow she had ended up back at Angel's. And she had a vague memory of him calling her name. It wasn't clear, but she figured Angel must have taken inside and put her in the bed she had woken up in.

Embarrassment had flushed her cheeks when she realized that. What must he think of her? He would probably just think she was crazy like everyone else did. She had to talk to him, though. She'd told herself she would find him and apologize for falling apart and imposing on him. And then...she didn't know what she would do after that. Going home was what she had to do. But she didn't want to. She didn't want to face her father, her house, and her third floor prison. Maybe, just maybe, she could ask Angel if she could stay here for a little while.

With that thought in mind, Buffy had wondered around the second floor in search of Angel. It was late, and she figured he would probably be asleep, but when she had searched every room, and come across what looked like his bedroom, she had yet to find him. Thinking that he must been on the first floor, she had descended the sturdy mahogany stairs intent on finding him.

The moment she'd reached the last stair, she had heard the hushed voices coming from the direction of the living room. At least she had thought it was the living room. She had only been inside the house a few times though. Regardless, the sound of voices had been unmistakable.

Racked with indecision, Buffy had contemplated going back upstairs, or on second thought, leaving. The sudden worry had popped into her head that maybe Angel had a girlfriend and he was in the other room with her. Her hand had gripped the banister in a death clutch at the very idea of Angel being with some woman. She hadn't wanted to think about that, or why it bothered her so.

Instead she had crept toward to doorway through which the voices were coming. They grew louder, but still hard to hear. So she had inched closer, pressing herself against the wall, all the while chastising herself for invading Angel's privacy.

"_...can't really be counted. Other than that, was Buffy ever violent?"_ she had suddenly heard clearly enough to make her jolt to a stop.

She had known it was Angel that had spoken, she recognized his voice. Just as she had recognized Spike's resounding 'no' that had followed. They were talking about her – Angel, Spike...and possibly others. But why? Needing to know, to understand, Buffy had gotten as close to the doorway as possible, and had listened to each and every word they said.

Emotions had whirled inside her when she realized what they were talking about. A bone deep hurt had settled inside her at the memory of the deaths her mother, brother, and sister. And then confusion, fear, and anger when she thought about that night, what had happened afterwards, and what her father had told her just hours before.

Everyone thought she had killed her family. A murderer. They thought she was a murderer. But...but...she shook her head, forcing the thoughts away and focused back on the conversation going on in the other room. The conversation about her, about her family.

She'd had to fight back a gasp when it had become clear that discussion wasn't just about her family's deaths, but her role in it, or rather, the role Angel seemed to be saying she couldn't have had. Tears welled in her eyes. Angel thought she was innocent. He believed in her and he hardly knew her.

How she had ended up moving to stand in the doorway, Buffy wasn't quite sure, but suddenly she was there, and everybody in the room was staring at her. She was vaguely aware that Spike, Willow, and Xander were seated on the couch and chair, but her eyes were on Angel. Her heart was pounding, her hands shaking at her sides.

Stepping closer to him, she said, "I didn't kill them." It was a statement. And maybe a question.

"No, you didn't," Angel replied softly. He didn't have one hundred percent proof of that, but he was as sure of it as he was of anything. There was just no possible way Buffy could have killed her family. The facts supported that belief, but it was his gut that told him it was truth.

A single tear trickled down Buffy's cheek and her shoulders slumped. Just having Angel's support and belief in her loosened something inside her. Ever since the argument with her father earlier, dread had pooled in her stomach and swirled inside her head. Now it was gone. Almost.

Angel stood, lifting his hand to knuckle away the tear that clung to her soft cheek. He frowned slightly at her. "You didn't think you did, did you?"

Buffy tilted her head, averted her eyes. She didn't want to admit to him that after her father's harsh words, she had wondered if she could have done what everyone believed her guilty of. If Angel knew she had entertained the thought, he would certainly reconsider his position on her innocence. No, she couldn't tell him. But he wasn't going to let the subject drop.

"Buffy," he pressed, and used his hand to lift her chin. "You don't have to hide anything from me."

Staring into Angel's deep brown eyes, Buffy knew he meant it. A few feet away, Willow, Spike and Xander watched the interaction with varying degrees of interest. If any of them had been asked, they would have said neither Buffy or Angel were aware of their presences at the moment. They were conscious of only each other.

"I didn't know," Buffy finally whispered. "Before...before tonight, I just knew they were dead. And then...," she trailed off and took a deep breath. "After he told me about everything, I didn't know what to think.

Angel frowned again. That wasn't exactly the answer he had expected. How could she not know if she had committed murder? That was kind of a big deal. She should have known what happened.

He reached down and took one of her hands. "Here," he said and lightly tugged her toward the chair he had been sitting in. "Sit down."

Obliging, Buffy sat in the chair. Her eyes wandered toward the couch and she became fully cognizant once again of the fact that Angel wasn't the only one in the room. She quickly looked away as fear of what they thought of her filled her mind. Did they think she was a murderer like everyone else? She tried to tell herself they wouldn't. They had been her best friends, but still...then she remembered the conversation she had heard between them and Angel.

Willow solved the problem by speaking up for herself and the others. "Buffy, we know you didn't do it. We always knew."

She let out a heavy breath, but still kept her eyes trained on her hands. They said she hadn't done it – Angel said she hadn't done it, but there was still a niggling doubt in her mind. How did she know if she had killed her mother, her sister and her brother? The answer was simple: she didn't know.

Angel dragged a stool over in front of the chair and sat. He glanced at group seated on the other side of the room, his concern for Buffy obvious. Despite the fact that they had voiced their support, it was Buffy who seemed to have her doubts. And that was hard for him to understand.

For a long, silent minute, Angel contemplated what he should say to her. He wanted to erase whatever was causing her disbelief. But what could he say? Several avenues circled in his head, but none seemed viable. Instead, he settled for the one question that he felt needed to be asked.

"Buffy," he began, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Why don't you tell us what you remember about that night? Maybe it would help us to understand it better."

No answer came for several long seconds. Angel was beginning to think that Buffy had either not heard the question, or had no intention of answering. But, finally, after a few nervous twitches of her clenched hands, Buffy spoke.

"I don't," she paused, cleared her throat. "I don't really remember much."

Angel patted her knee gently in reassurance. "Just tell us anything you can remember."

"Okay," she nodded, still twisting her fingers together. "We...we were all in the family room – Mom, Dawn, Owen and me. It was movie night. Once a week we would all watch a couple of movies together," she clarified for Angel's sake. "Dawn and Owen were arguing over what movie we were going to watch first..."

Buffy's eyes glazed over slightly as her mind drifted back to that fateful night.

* * *

"_Come on, Owen!" Dawn whined and playfully slapped at her brother's arm. "We watched your movie first last week!"_

"_So?" Owen replied with a grunt and pushed his annoying little sister's hand away._

"_You're not being fair!" She crossed her arms over her chest, sticking her lower lip out in an exaggerated pout._

"_Don't be a baby," he chided and rolled his eyes. "My movie is better anyway."_

"_Is not!" Dawn disagreed. "Mine is sooo much better, and we're watching it first!"_

"_No, we're watching mine first," Buffy interjected with a smirk. When both of her siblings opened their mouths to disagree, she added, "I'm the oldest, so I get to pick."_

"_That's so not fair," Dawn whined and eyed Buffy in annoyance._

"_Your point?" Buffy asked, rising off the sofa to pop her tape into the VCR._

"_Ugh," Owen groaned. "A chick flick."_

_Buffy ignored his complaint and pushed her tape into the VCR. She turned, faced her glaring brother. "For your information-."_

"_I can see we're starting off as usual," Joyce interrupted, walking into the room with a tray in her hands. She shook her head at her children. They could never agree on anything._

"_Ooooh! Ice cream!" Dawn cheered happily while snagging a bowl off the tray her mother carried. She looked down at the bowl and frowned. "Mint chocolate chip? Who picked that?"_

_Joyce glanced at the bowls full of green mint ice cream speckled with brown chocolate chips. Her brow furrowed for a moment in consideration. "I think it must have been your father."_

_Dawn opened her mouth to reply, but Buffy cut her off. "Where is Dad anyway?"_

_Setting the tray down on the coffee table, Joyce took a bowl for herself and plopped down onto one of the cushioned chairs in front of the television. "He should be here soon," she answered, checked her watch and saw that it was a little past five p.m._

"_He's usually home by now," Owen said over a mouth full of ice cream._

"_It's Friday, he probably got caught in traffic," Joyce assumed while spooning up her own dessert. "He would have called if he was going to be late. I'm sure he won't mind if we start the first movie, though."_

_Buffy set down her spoon and grabbed the remote control. She pressed play, then tossed the remote down beside her on the couch. After a few moments, the open credits began to roll by._

"_You picked _The Matrix_? Cool!" Owen contentedly settled down to watch one of his favorite action movies._

"_Hey, Keanu's cute," Buffy said as Dawn giggled next to her on the couch._

_Joyce bit back a chuckle, all the while feeling a bit of relief at Buffy's carefree attitude. Her daughter was doing better. She smiled a bit more these days, even if she mostly refused to go outside of the house except for her walks on the beach. Soon, maybe things would return to normal. Shaking off her thoughts of the past, Joyce settled down to watch the movie with her family, and hoped her husband would get home soon. She missed him every day when he went off to work.

* * *

_

Angel listened attentively, trying to pick up anything in Buffy's story that seemed out of place, but so far, it sounded as though the night had started off normal, harmless. There was nothing to indicate that Buffy had spiraled into a rage, as the reports had vacantly accused. From her description, she'd been happy that night, or at least happier than she'd been in the past. Her relating of the beginning of that night only reinforced Angel's belief that Buffy just could not have done it.

"What happened after that?" he asked, needing to hear the rest in order to be able to do anything to help her.

Buffy frowned, her eyes squinted beneath her lowered brow. She thought back on that night, tried to push the memories forward. But all she came up with was a big blank space. There was just nothing immediately after they had sat down to start watching the movie.

"Buffy?" Angel prodded gently.

"I-I don't know," she confessed, looking up at him with scared eyes. "I can't remember."

"That's okay," he assured her even though it made things difficult. "Tell me what you do remember."

A shudder worked its way through Buffy. She tried to avoid thinking about this part of that night as much as possible. The images were too much to bear. So, over the years, she had forced them out of her mind. But during sleep, they haunted her in dreams tinted red with blood.

"I...I..." She shuddered again, and gratefully grabbed onto Angel's hand when he offered it to her. "I was sitting on the couch. J-just sitting there. On...on the TV, the credits of the movie were showing...and-and I thought that was strange. I started to – to get up...and I saw...I saw." Buffy choked back a sob, pressed a hand to her mouth.

She could clearly remember her eyes landing on Dawn, a few feet away from where she'd been sitting, her body – her bloodied, lifeless body – hanging off the couch. Sheer horror had had her stumbling away from the couch, nearly tripping over Owen's prone form. And then, as she'd struggled toward the door, there had been her mother.

"They were just there," she continued in a shattered whisper. "I-I think I screamed. I don't r-remember anything after that, except," she paused, probing deeper into her mind. "I think Daddy carried me somewhere. I'm not sure."

"You don't remember anything between when the movie started and the end of it?" Angel asked for clarification. That's weird, he said to himself. Almost two hours of time where her memory was blank.

"No," Buffy despaired. There was nothing she remembered from that time period. And that was what scared her.

Angel heard the absolute anguish in her voice and somehow recognized it was from more than just her lack of memory. "What is it, Buffy?"

"What if...," she hesitated, afraid to say her fear out loud. "What if I did it? What if I...I killed them and blocked it out?" There, she'd said it, said what had been circling around her mind since running from her father's house. She could have done it. She could have killed the people who meant the most to her and then blocked it out. It was possible. It had happened to people before.

"No!" Angel refuted defiantly. "Listen to me, Buffy. You didn't do anything wrong!"

"But then why can't I remember?" she asked pleadingly, wishing she could believe him.

Willow stood up, moved toward Buffy. She knelt down in front of her friend, looked her directly in the eyes. "Angel's right," she said in agreement. "You didn't do anything wrong, Buffy."

Before Buffy could deny or question the statement, Angel interrupted. "Let us explain then you'll understand."

He hesitated as Buffy stared up at him expectantly. Yes, he had reasons, valid reasons, as to why he believed in her innocence, but he worried about saying them out loud to her. He didn't know if she would be able to handle frank talk about her family's murders. The things he had discussed with the others weren't exactly PG rated. Yet, he knew if she were to understand and to believe in herself, he would have to give her the full explanation.

So he did. As gently as possible, he relayed what he had talked about with Willow, Xander and Spike. He explained about how unlikely it was that one person, her, could have killed all three people without one getting away, or even being injured. And more so, he mentioned the suspect circumstances of her mother's cause of death.

All the while, Buffy listened stoically. She flinched at the description of how her mother died, but otherwise, she only listened. When Angel finished, she gazed up at him with tear-laden eyes and said, "I don't understand. Why would anyone kill them? They never hurt anyone."

Angel didn't respond. He had his suspicions. Buffy looked to Willow, but she too was silent. When her eyes met Xander's, he quickly looked away. And suddenly she knew what no one was willing to say.

"It was because of me," she whispered. "You think they were killed because of me, because of the ra-...because of what Cameron did to me."

* * *

TBC 


	18. Chapter 17

AN - just a quick note to say thank you to all my reviewers here at the-site-which-cannot-be-named. You guys are awesome and I appreciate all the comments!**  
**

**Chapter 17

* * *

**

There was no easy way to respond to the statement Buffy made, that the rape had led to her family members' deaths, Angel realized. All through his research on the events of four years ago, there was only one conclusion he'd been able to come to. The police had missed some key information, clues that changed everything. So either they were really incompetent, or they'd done it on purpose. He was betting on the latter considering the fact that Cameron Walker's father was police chief, and the police chief's best friend was Mayor Richard Wilkins, a man he'd been told was rotten to the core.

That line of thinking took Angel down another road. Someone had killed three of the Giles family. Who else had a motive other than Cameron Walker's family, and his family's friends, to take revenge on Buffy. No one. By the things Willow had told him, the Walkers, and their entourage, had been quite vicious to Buffy after the rape. Would they have possibly gone so far as to commit murder to get back at her? Considering that the blame got laid on Buffy's head, yes. It was a perfect way to ruin her.

If his suppositions were correct, then, Cameron's father, and others, had arranged the murder of Buffy's family. But that didn't mean any of it was her fault, and that was what he, along with Spike, Willow, and Xander, had to get her to understand. How he was going to do that, Angel didn't have a clue.

When no on dared to refute her claim, Buffy slumped back in the chair. She'd killed her family just as if she'd used the knife on them. No one had to tell her that. The facts were staring her right in the face. "This is all my fault," she said brokenly.

Angel's head jerked up and he stared at her hard as he forcefully disagreed with her. "No, Buffy. This was anything but your fault."

"But if I-."

"No," Angel cut her off abruptly. "It was not your fault," he repeated.

Willow, still kneeling in front of the chair, took one of Buffy's hands to draw her attention. "What did you do wrong to make what happened your fault?" she asked simply.

The question gave Buffy pause. What had she done wrong? "I...I accused Cameron of...of raping me." That was, after all, what had started everything.

"Accused?" Willow repeated, disheartened by the defeat she heard in Buffy's voice. "He raped you, Buffy. Cameron Walker raped you. He's the one to blame for all this. Him, his father, and all his cronies."

"But-." Again, Buffy was interrupted.

"There's no buts about it," Willow stated emphatically. She looked directly at Buffy. "Did Cameron rape you?" Buffy nodded her head yes, unable to say it aloud. "Did you go to the police and tell them the truth about what happened?" Willow then asked.

"You know I did," she answered softly.

"Then you did nothing wrong!" Willow squeezed Buffy's hand, forced her to raise her eyes. "You were the victim, Buffy. And the police were supposed to help you. You can't be blamed for their corruption and what they did afterwards."

A few tears slipped out of Buffy's eyes, her lower lip quivered as she fought the urge to break down and cry. In her heart, she knew they were right. All she'd done was tell the truth about what had happened in the locker room the day of her seventeenth birthday. But still...

"If I hadn't said anything, none of this would have happened," she said, voicing the one thought in her mind.

Spike, who'd stood and walked over to her chair, ran a gentle hand down her hair. "None of us could have predicted what happened, Buffy," he told her, keeping his hand on her shoulder. "The police are supposed to help people and punish the bloody bastards who do things like what Cameron did to you. You couldn't have known what would happen."

"No, you couldn't have known what would happen," Angel agreed, speaking up after having allowed Buffy's friends to add their support. "But we're not going to let them get away with what they did," he finished defiantly.

"What-what do you mean?" Buffy asked.

For a brief moment, Angel hesitated. What was he getting himself involved in, he wondered? This wasn't one of the crime novels he loved to read. This was real life. And the people he was getting ready to go up against were not good people. They'd covered up a rape, and likely had paid someone – since doing it themselves would be above them – to murder three people. He had to be insane to get involved.

Looking up into Buffy's sad eyes, Angel knew he was insane. He would do anything he could to help her. In the short time he had been in Sunnydale, and the even shorter time that he had known Buffy personally, she had worked her way under his skin without even knowing it. And he wasn't ready to admit it yet, but she had also worked her way into his heart.

"I've got a friend who works for FBI here in California. I think I can get him to take a look at case...everything from the rape to the murders," he broke out of his thoughts and told Buffy. The expected alarm on her face didn't come unexpected. "Don't worry," he assured her. "He's a good guy. I trust him, and I don't have any intention of telling him that you are really alive until I know he believes you are innocent."

Seeing her reluctance, Spike squeezed her shoulder. "It's the right thing to do, Buffy."

"I agree," Xander chimed in as he stood and walked over to Buffy. He gave Willow a look and a slight jerk of his head, silently asking her to move. She complied and Xander looked at both Angel and Spike, also asking them to give him some space. They obeyed.

Xander took Angel's seat on the stool and took a deep breath. "First off, Buff, I want to apologize to you," he began. "I wasn't a good friend to you. I should have stuck by you after the rape, and I didn't. I'm sorry."

"Oh, Xander," Buffy said with a slight sniffle as she took his hand. "I know things were hard for you. I always understood that."

"It doesn't matter. I should have stuck by you," he repeated firmly. "But I'll be there this time. This all has to stop, Buff. They need to pay for what they've done to you, and who knows what they could do to some other innocent victim."

She wanted to cry. She wanted to throw her arms around Xander and hug him. Yes, it had hurt years ago when he'd backed away after the rape. But she hadn't lied when she said she'd understood. His future had been on the line. And in the end, it hadn't mattered. He had lost a chance at a college scholarship by getting kicked off the swim team because of his association with her. Another thing the rape had ruined.

But were they right? Should Angel talk to his friend? Part of her wanted to scream out 'no!' and run back to her attic rooms and hide. That part of her didn't want to deal with any of it. And what would happen if something went wrong? What if she was arrested and put in jail like her father believed she would? What if Cameron's father found out she was alive and did something else to her? Or worse, to her father, her friends? Or Angel. She couldn't bear anything more happening to them because of her.

There was another part of her, though, that wanted them to pay for all they had done to her. Cameron had gotten away with violating her, and later tormenting her with his friends. And if Angel was right, his father and his father's friends, including Mayor Wilkins, had murdered her family. Could she let them get away with that?

Buffy didn't know what to do. Willow, Spike and Xander thought she should fight back. Angel thought she should fight back. She trusted them, and Angel, didn't she?

Yes, she did.

"Okay, what do we do?"

* * *

The sun was just beginning to crest on the horizon when Buffy finally made it back upstairs to Angel's guest room. She eyed the bed, smiling slightly at the sight of Shadow, the kitten, curled up in a ball on one of the pillows, but wondering if she would be able to sleep if she lay down. She didn't think she would. Her mind was too busy sorting through everything that had happened earlier, with her father, with her friends, and with Angel.

In less than twenty-four hours, she had been kissed by Angel – something she still had trouble grasping. She'd argued with her father and found out the horrible truth about why he kept her virtually locked inside the house that had once been her home. That alone would have been enough to overwhelm a person. But then she'd returned to Angel's house, and he'd taken her in, given her a bed to sleep on. To top it all off, she had interrupted a conversation between Angel and her friends where they had thrust their support at her and squelched all the doubts she had about the night her family had been killed. Almost.

Buffy eased herself down on the edge of the bed and reached out to pet the kitten as she thought about it all. In the four years that had passed since the murders, she had never even had the slightest inclination that her father believed she had killed them. Her hand trembled on the kitten at the thought. It hurt to know that her father could think she had killed three people who meant everything to her. But she supposed she couldn't really blame him for accepting her guilt under the circumstances. She had her own doubts about that night.

If only there wasn't a big blank spot in her memory about what had happened after they'd all sat down to watch the movie. It scared her that she didn't remember. As long as there was an empty whole in her memory, she would wonder about what really happened, and if she'd had any part in it. But she believed what Angel had explained to her about the things he'd learned from reading the articles. His reasoning made sense about why she was innocent. She was just having a hard time completely convincing herself that she wasn't a murderer, or at least some sort of unknowing accomplice.

"Buffy?"

Startled, Buffy nearly leapt off the bed. Pressing a hand to her now pounding heart, she turned and saw Angel standing in the doorway to the room.

"Sorry. I didn't meant to scare you," he apologized and took another step into the room.

"That's okay," she replied and gave him a small smile.

"I, umm...here's some clothes you can sleep in." Angel thrust a bundle at her and then shoved his hands in his pockets. He didn't know why he was suddenly nervous, but he was.

Buffy took the clothes, touched that he would think of such a mundane thing. Unfolding them, Buffy looked at the items. He'd brought her a t-shirt and a pair of cotton shorts with a drawstring. She looked down at her own clothes, grateful that she wouldn't have to sleep in them.

"There's, uh, a bathroom down at the end of the hall where you can change," he told her and nodded in the direction.

"Thanks." She grasped the clothes in her hands against her chest and stood. "I'll be right back."

Angel watched as she shuffled out of the room. It was just dawning on him that Buffy was staying at his house. Buffy, who he'd kissed just hours earlier. Buffy, who he wouldn't mind kissing again. He quickly shoved that idea out of his head. Thinking about kissing Buffy was completely inappropriate given the situation. Knowing that didn't stop him from wanting to do it.

The soft footsteps warned Angel that Buffy was on her way back to the room. Needing to be doing something, he wandered over to the window and looked out at the lightening sky. It would be morning soon, and he hadn't even had an hour's worth of sleep. He silently thanked his old job for getting him used to working on little sleep.

He turned when he heard Buffy moving about in the room. She'd set her clothes down on top of the dresser and was now wearing his clothes. The sight made his heart thump wildly in his chest. His t-shirt was huge on her, the neck hanging almost off one shoulder. It likely would have hung to her knees, but she had tied it in a knot on her left hip. The shorts, though, did drape to her knees. If they hadn't had a drawstring, he had no doubt the wouldn't have stayed up. For some reason, the look was incredibly sexy. And again he told himself thoughts like that were completely inappropriate.

"I have to go in to work for a little while today, but I shouldn't be gone too long," he finally said in order to distract himself from lascivious thoughts of Buffy in his clothes.

"Okay," she mumbled, suddenly feeling a bit uncomfortable. "I, um...thanks for letting me stay here. I'll try not to be a pain."

"Buffy." Angel walked over and untwined her hands which had been twisting together in front of her. He held them lightly while he spoke. "It's not a problem at all. You're welcome to stay here as long as you want."

She breathed a sigh of relief and smiled up at him. "Thanks."

"And you're free to have anything in the kitchen or watch the TV or whatever. I've got a few movies you can watch, or there are a bunch of books if you like to read. Just don't go...," he paused, unsure of how to say the next thing without upsetting her or making her angry.

Reading his mind, Buffy gave a slight nod of her head. "Don't go outside, right?"

"Yeah."

"It's okay. I understand," she replied. She wouldn't admit it, but she really didn't want to go outside. Not here in Sunnydale where everyone thought she was crazy, and a murderer. And dead.

"Well, I um...I guess I'll let you get to sleep," Angel stated as he released Buffy's hands and started toward the door.

The loss of contact slapped at Buffy the moment he let go of her. His touch felt so natural. She hadn't wanted him to let go. But more, she didn't want to be alone right now. "Angel?" He stopped, glanced at her. She said nothing for several seconds, unsure of what she wanted to ask, but finally went for it. "Would you...would you stay with me until I fall asleep?"

The softly spoken plea trickled down spine and set his nerves on edge, but he couldn't deny her. "Sure." He slipped off his shoes and approached the bed, wondering how they were going to work this.

Seeing no other choice, since there weren't yet any chairs in the room, he sat down on the bed with his back leaning against the oak headboard. Not the most comfortable position, but it would do. Buffy hesitated for a moment. Did she really want to get into a bed with a man she hardly knew? She nibbled on her lower lip. This was Angel, though. He was kind to her. He didn't think she was crazy or a killer. She didn't think he would do anything to hurt her, so she too climbed onto the bed.

"Thanks," she responded gratefully, trying not to think about the fact that she was in a bed with Angel. It was...strange. But not all that uncomfortable. For the most part.

Angel was silent as she lay down on her side, pulling the blankets up around her chest. The moment she'd settled herself in, a wave of exhaustion hit Buffy. It looked as though she would be able to sleep even though she'd thought she wouldn't. Blinking her eyes to fight off sleep, she tilted her head and looked up at the man who'd offered her more than just a place to stay.

"Angel?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah?" He shifted to look down at her blonde head nestled on the pillow covered in a soft green pillowcase.

"Why are you doing this?" she questioned, needing to know the answer.

He frowned, uncertain of her meaning. "Doing what?"

"Helping me," she clarified, then added, "Being nice to me."

It was a simple question, Angel thought. Too bad he didn't have a simple response. He wasn't sure he even had a complete answer. Ever since the first time he'd seen her walking on the beach at midnight he'd been drawn to her. There was no way to explain why, when he didn't quite know himself. Even so, he needed to give her some kind of answer.

"Because you're a good person, Buffy, and I want to help you." Angel winced. Lame answer, but it was the best he could come up with without sounding like an idiot.

He wasn't sure if the answer was what she wanted to hear because she said nothing. So he watched as her eyes drifted closed. A minute passed in silence and he thought she'd fallen asleep, but then he heard her say his name again in a sleepy whisper.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you," she said, her voice muffled by the pillow and sleepiness.

He smiled and settled back against the headboard. "You're welcome."

Angel stayed awake as the sun continued to rise in the sky. It would have been useless to try to get any sleep now, not when he had to get up to go to work in another hour or so. Plus, if he had fallen asleep, he didn't have his alarm clock to wake him up. So instead, he sat on the bed next to Buffy, watching the sun inch across the room toward the bed.

He couldn't help but notice how beautiful she looked in the early morning sun. Her golden hair was spread out across the pillow, shining brightly under the sunlight. Her left hand was curled up near her head, shifting occasionally as she slept. The room was quiet except for the light sound of her breathing. She didn't snore. Angel tucked that little fact inside his head.

Only a half hour or so had passed when a slight whimper from Buffy caught his attention. Gazing down at her, his muscles tensed. Her previously serene face was now marred with a furrowed brow and quivering lower lip. She whimpered again and her body twitched. The hand on the pillow clenched, grasping at the green pillowcase.

Should he wake her up? Or should he let the dream – nightmare? – run its course? He didn't know what to do. He didn't want to wake her up unless he had to, so he shifted closer to her and as gently as possible pried her clenched hand off the pillowcase. The motion never woke her.

Angel held her hand against his chest, lightly trailing his thumb across her knuckles. The contact seemed to work because within minutes the tension left her body. Her breathing returned to normal and her fingers loosened. He uncurled them further and laid her palm flat against his chest, all the while never stopping the soothing caress of his thumb on the back of her hand.

For the rest of the time he was there, she slept peacefully.

* * *

TBC 


	19. Chapter 18

AN: Once again, I just want to say thanks to everyone here at the-site-which-cannot-be-named for all the wonderful feedback!

**Chapter 18

* * *

**

Sunlight was streaming all the way across the bed by the time Buffy woke up several hours later. Disorientation set in first. The room and the bed were unfamiliar. It only took a moment, though, for her memories of the night before to resurface. She was at Angel's house, sleeping in Angel's guestroom. And she was currently in the bed that she had fallen asleep next to Angel early that morning.

Before she could stop herself, Buffy whipped her head around to look at the other side of the bed, hoping, but knowing she wouldn't, find Angel there. He had told her he needed to go to work today. As expected, the bed was empty. Or almost.

Lying on the pillow next to her was a single sheet of paper, as well as a cluster of what looked like wildflowers. Buffy couldn't stop the smile that formed at seeing them. Angel had left her flowers. She sat up quickly and scooped them up in her hands, lifting them to her face so she could inhale their fresh scent. The sigh she emitted would have embarrassed her if anyone had been in the room with her.

She held the flowers in front of her for a long minute, all but cooing over the gesture. They were only wildflowers, but they were beautiful, coming in a range of colors and blooms. Finally, Buffy lowered them to her lap and picked up the accompanying note. The sight of Angel's flowing script made her smile again as she read the letter.

_Buffy,_

_I hope you slept well. I didn't want to wake you when I left._

_Don't hesitate to use anything in the house. There's plenty of food in the kitchen if you get hungry._

_I should be home by 4. I'll stop and pick up a pizza for dinner._

_Angel_

The mere mention of food made her stomach growl. She couldn't remember the last time she had eaten. Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was only one in the afternoon. Way too early to wait for the dinner Angel promised to bring with him. She'd have to take him up on his offer to raid the kitchen.

Still holding the note and the flowers, Buffy climbed out of the big, comfortable bed and padded out of the room. The moment she walked through the doorway and into the hallway, a black ball of fur lept at her feet, causing her to shriek, then burst out laughing. The kitten stopped batting at her toes long enough to look at her as though she were not quite sane.

"Hello, Shadow," she greeted the kitten, bending down to scratch her ears. The kitten purred loudly and brushed against Buffy's ankle. "Are you hungry, too?" she asked. Shadow cocked her as if to say yes, so Buffy picked her up.

Now carrying the kitten, the flowers, and the note, Buffy descended the stairs and walked through the house. It wasn't until she reached the kitchen that she realized she felt totally at ease in Angel's home. Strange, she thought. She hadn't felt comfortable anywhere since...since a long time ago.

As she searched through the cabinets for cat food, Buffy considered the thought. Why did she feel so comfortable here? She supposed it was because everything about Angel's house was positive. She had no bad memories of the place, unlike the house she shared with her father. Everything here was light and fresh. She rather liked it.

But, she quickly amended, it wouldn't do to get used to it. This was Angel's house. Not hers. She was only a guest. That reminder didn't stop her from wondering, though, what it would be like to live here. With Angel.

A blush crept up her cheeks at the intimate connotation of her imagination. What in the world was she thinking? She had no business thinking fantasies like that. Angel was just...a friend. He was only helping her clear her name and get her life back on track. That was all he was doing. She didn't even really want to consider anything beyond that.

The memory of the kiss they'd shared rose in her mind. That hadn't exactly been a friendly thing, had it? It hadn't seemed like a strictly platonic gesture at the time. It had seemed like...everything. But what did it mean to Angel? Why had he done it? Maybe he had only been trying to be nice to her because he felt sorry for her. She hoped that wasn't the reason. Then again, maybe it was better if that was the case. She could handle something like a platonic kiss between friends. Anything else...Buffy shuddered, dark memories surging to the surface.

A loud meow shook Buffy out of her thoughts, making her realize she'd found the cat food, but gotten so sidetracked thinking about Angel she'd forgotten to pour some into the kitten's bowl. She'd simply been standing there at the counter, cat food in hand, mind wandering. Good thing no one was around to see her act like a fool.

Walking over to the silly porcelain bowls Angel had bought, she poured some of the special kitten formula dry food for Shadow. As soon as she moved away, the kitten happily crouched and starting munching away.

After replacing the cat food, Buffy's stomach growled again, reminding her of her own hunger. She strode over the refrigerator and poked around inside. There was some leftover fried chicken in a bowl that looked appetizing, but she worried that it would make her too full and then she wouldn't be hungry when Angel came back with the pizza.

She put the bowl covered with plastic wrap back on the shelf and looked around for something else. In the dairy drawer, she found some packaged cheese. If Angel had any crackers to go with the cheese, it would make a good snack. Grabbing the block of cheddar, along with a can of diet cola, Buffy closed the fridge and set her selection on the counter.

A short search later, she'd found some cracked wheat crackers and had seated herself at the kitchen table. She was just about to slice off a piece of cheddar when a knock sounded on the front door. Her hand froze mid-cut, panic seizing her instantly.

Who in the world would be knocking on Angel's door in the middle of the day? It didn't matter who, though. Nobody could know that she was here – or that she was alive for that matter. Luckily, whoever was at the door couldn't see into the kitchen where she was. She hoped they went away quickly.

The knock came again, increasing her worry. To be on the safe side, she quietly stood from the table and inched her way over toward the pantry. She could hide there if necessary. She had reached the slatted doors when yet another knock sounded. Whoever it was didn't seem to be going away. Would they try to come in? Peek in the windows?

As Buffy was about to slip into the pantry, she heard familiar voice call out.

"It's Willow!"

Buffy slumped against the wall in relief, and let out a heavy sigh. It was only Willow, someone who knew she was live and didn't believe she was a murderer. And actually, she wouldn't mind seeing Willow. Ever since things had changed, she hadn't had a chance to really talk to her friend.

Even though she knew it was Willow at the door, Buffy was still cautious as she approached. She took care to peek out the curtained side windows just to be safe. The flash of red hair assured her that it was indeed Willow. Still, when she opened the door, she made certain to stand behind it so that she couldn't be seen from the outside.

Willow scooted in, allowing Buffy to close the door quickly. For several drawn out seconds, the two could only stare at each other, feeling an awkwardness between them. Buffy's eyes darted around the foyer while Willow shifted nervously on her feet. Neither knew what to say to the other.

Finally, Willow grabbed at the duffel bag hanging off her shoulder and held it out to Buffy. "I...um...I brought you some clothes." At Buffy's questioning look, she elaborated, "Giles...he...um...I got a key from him and got some of your stuff." What she didn't say was that she'd seen where Buffy had spent the last few years. It wasn't bad. It just looked...lonely.

"Oh...thanks." Buffy's eyes flicked down to her current attire. She pulled at the t-shirt still knotted at her hip. "These are Angel's. They're kinda big."

"Well, Angel's a big guy," Willow replied. The two friends burst out laughing at the silly comment, and suddenly, the awkwardness was gone.

"Yeah, he is," Buffy agreed, flushing a bit as she thought of Angel's large body near hers on the bed the night before. Willow noticed the slight scarlet tint to Buffy's cheeks, but said nothing.

Sighing, Willow looked at Buffy, struck suddenly by the fact that her best friend was really alive and in her life again. "It's so good to have you back, Buffy."

"I missed you, too," she answered with a small sniffle.

Willow stepped forward, wanting to hug Buffy, but hesitated. "Do you mind?" she asked.

Buffy shook her head. "No."

They embraced, and both were soon crying, releasing years of pent up emotions. It was Willow who finally pulled back, but kept her hands on Buffy's arms, afraid to let go. "Oh, Buffy. I wish I'd known...I could have done something...been there for you."

Smiling sadly, Buffy swiped at her wet cheeks. "It's okay. You're here now."

"Yes, I am," Willow said definitively. "And I always will be."

Accepting the reinforcement, Buffy nodded her head, but said nothing in response. She didn't want to talk about her past right now. All she wanted was to spend some time with her best friend. She had missed so much. "I was just about to have a snack. Do you want some?"

"Sure," Willow answered with a smile and followed Buffy into the kitchen.

Once in the kitchen, Buffy went to the refrigerator and pulled out a can of the same soda she'd gotten for herself and held it up to Willow. "Is this okay?"

"Yeah, that's fine," Willow replied, taking a seat on a chair at the table.

Following suit, Buffy sat down and handed Willow the can. She pulled out some more crackers, placing them between them on the table. As Willow raised her hand to open the can of diet cola, a shiny glint off her hand caught Buffy's eye. Shocked, she grabbed at Willow's hand, staring at the medium sized emerald surrounded by little diamonds set in a gold band.

"Is this...," she mumbled, looking up at Willow who was blushing slightly.

"Uh huh," Willow responded shyly.

"You're engaged!" shrieked Buffy, yanking on her hand to get a better look.

"Spike and I are getting married next month," Willow told her even though Buffy hadn't yet asked.

Buffy's mouth dropped open. Spike and Willow? Engaged? Getting married? It was almost too much to fathom. She knew they'd been friends in high school. They had all been friends. But there had never been anything romantic between the two. Willow had been seriously dating...

"What about Oz?" Buffy blurted out.

Shifting in her seat, Willow let the hand that Buffy had let go of drop to her lap. Her anger with her former boyfriend was long past, and they still kept in touch as friends, but she hated to talk about it. This was Buffy though, her best friend.

"We broke up about three years ago," Willow relayed, slicing off a piece of the cheddar cheese as a way to add some distraction.

"Oh, Willow," Buffy said, leaning forward. "What happened?"

Willow shrugged, took a bite of her cracker with cheese, chewed slowly. She swallowed, then sighed loudly. "Well, you know his band was getting popular after high school," she began, and Buffy nodded. "They started touring places within an hour or two driving's distance with this band Shy. One weekend I decided I would go up to Pasadena where they were playing and surprise him since he'd been gone a few weeks. It was fairly early in the morning, and I didn't want to wake him so I convinced the manager of the motel to give me a key. When I went in, Oz was in bed with this chick Veruca, the totally skanky lead singer of Shy."

"No way! Oz would never have cheated on you!" Buffy refuted, completely surprised that he would do that to Willow. Oz had always been so loyal to her.

"I didn't think so either," she agreed, shrugging again. "But they were in bed naked. I left before Oz could explain. But he followed me back to Sunnydale. He said it had been a one time thing. They'd gotten drunk and accidentally slept together." At Buffy's snort, Willow nodded. "Yeah. I don't doubt that's what happened, but what was to stop it from happening again with her? Or some groupie? I couldn't stand the idea of him being all over the place with women throwing themselves at him while I was here in Sunnydale, so I broke up with him."

"Wow." Buffy was almost speechless. She couldn't believe what had happened. Willow and Oz had seemed so perfect together. And she never, never would have imagined Oz cheating on her best friend. "I'm so sorry, Willow."

"It's okay." Patting Buffy's hand, Willow gave a small smile. "It hurt for a long time, but I got over it. I still talk to Oz. We've managed to still be friends."

"That's good." Still, Buffy thought, that didn't explain... "How did you end up with Spike?"

Willow laughed, took a sip of her soda. "It's strange, I know. I never would have thought we'd end up together either," she said, still chuckling. "But he was there for me after everything with Oz. Neither of us really had many friends here so we did stuff together. Then he came up with this crazy idea about starting a business as partners."

"A business? Spike wanted to start a business?" The very idea seemed ludicrous to Buffy. He'd been such a bad boy in high school, always getting in trouble for something. Of course, as his friend, she'd known most of it was just an act. Deep down, he was a good guy. Even so, Spike as a business owner was way too strange.

"Yeah, I thought he was joking at first," Willow said what Buffy was thinking. "But he was serious. When I asked him why, he said he didn't want to be a loser all his life like people thought he was."

"Spike's not a loser," Buffy strongly disagreed.

"I told him that too, but he wanted to have something to stand on, to make him somebody." She bit into another cracker, lifted her shoulders restlessly. "I didn't think starting a business was such a good idea, at least not here with...everything that'd happened. But the more he talked about it, the better it sounded. I had some money that my grandmother left me after she died, and Spike had saved working at that motorcycle garage," she explained, referring to where Spike had had a job since he was sixteen.

"So you started a business?" Buffy asked incredulously.

"Yup." Willow nodded, knowing it sounded odd. "We opened up an internet coffee shop. It was the only thing that made sense here."

"Wow." Buffy shook her head in disbelief. Not only were Willow and Spike engaged to be married, they also owned a shop together. How strange.

"The first few months were rough," Willow went on. "We didn't have the best reputations because of...," she trailed off.

"Because of me," Buffy filled in what Willow hadn't said. "I'm sorry."

"No, Buffy. Don't be sorry. You didn't do anything wrong," Willow stated vehemently, taking one of Buffy's hands. "YOU were the one wronged. And I don't regret being your friend. Neither does Spike."

"Oh Willow." Buffy choked back a sniffle, but when Willow pulled her into a hug, she let the tears flow.

The two remained locked in an embrace, shedding tears for all the time they'd lost, and all that had happened in the past. Four years may have passed since the last time they'd been able to spend any real time together, but to them it didn't matter. They'd been friends since childhood. That kind of connection couldn't be severed because of all that had passed in the intervening years.

Over the next two hours, they talked about Willow's life, her relationship with Spike, and her business. Buffy was eager to hear about all that she had missed. If she felt a sense of loss in her heart over the fact that she had lost so much time, she held it inside. And if she felt any anger at her father for keeping her existence a secret for four years, she fought it back. She didn't want her reunion with her best friend tainted. Which was why she avoided any talk about her own past.

Willow noticed the direction of the conversation, the fact that everything had been about her, but she let it be. True, she did want to talk to Buffy about the four years she'd been gone. Presumed dead. But she didn't want to push. Buffy would talk about it when she was ready. All that mattered now was that Buffy was back. And she was damned sure it was going stay that way. She was not going to let anything else happen to Buffy.

They had just started talking about Willow's family when suddenly the redhead jumped and looked down at her feet where she'd felt something brush against her. Gazing up at her from the floor out of a pair of vivid green eyes was a little black furball. "Oh! How cute!" She bent down and picked up the kitten. "I didn't know Angel had a cat!"

"He just got her," Buffy told her, reaching over to scratch Shadow's head with a smile. "Angel let me name her."

Something in the tone of Buffy's voice made Willow look up at her friend curiously. She was about to speak when the sound of the front door opening and closing interrupted. The noise made Buffy flinch, a worried look crossing her face. But the sound of Angel calling Buffy's name erased the expression. More food for thought, Willow reflected.

"We're in the kitchen!" Buffy called back.

Within seconds, Angel appeared in the doorway. He stopped as he entered, giving a wide smile when he saw Buffy. Willow watched with great interest as Buffy smiled back at Angel, virtually forgetting Willow was there for a moment.

"I brought pizza," he said, holding out the rectangular box, then finally noticed the other person in the room. "Oh, hi Willow."

"Hey, Angel," she greeted him, still watching the byplay.

"Do you want to stay for pizza?" he asked Willow, setting the box on the table.

"Sure," she accepted eagerly, though her desire to stay had nothing to do with eating, and more to do with wanting to observe they way her two friends were acting around each other..

"Cool," he replied. "I'm just going to go up and change. Be right back."

Willow waited until Angel had left the room and she could hear his footsteps on the stairs before turning back to Buffy and asking, "So...what's up with you and Angel?"

* * *

TBC 


	20. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19

* * *

**

The question caught Buffy completely by surprise. _What's up with you and Angel?_ She whipped her head around and stared at her friend. The redhead, for her part, was staring right back at Buffy, waiting for an answer. The problem, though, was that Buffy didn't have an answer, or even a smidgen of an answer. Or even a clue as to why Willow would ask such a thing.

"What are you talking about?" Buffy asked warily.

Willow raised one slim, red eyebrow and leaned on the table. "I think it was a fairly straight forward question."

"But...I...but...," Buffy sputtered.

"Oh come on, Buffy," Willow butted in. "I've seen the way your look at him, act around him, and he's the same way."

"You're imaging things," denied Buffy.

That was a flat-out lie, Buffy knew. There did seem to be something between her and Angel. At least from her end. Angel was the sweetest guy she'd ever met. He'd done so much for her for no reason other than he was nice. He believed in her when very few other people did. What was there not to like about him? And it didn't hurt that he was drop-dead gorgeous.

"I don't think I am," Willow chirped.

The attraction between the two was quite obvious to Willow. When Angel had walked into the room moments earlier, Buffy had all but melted in her chair at the sight of him. And Angel, well, stared at Buffy as if he could have eaten her alive. Buffy could deny it all she wanted, but Willow knew there was something there.

What Willow didn't know, was whether this attraction between them was a good thing, or a bad thing. Buffy had been through so much in her life already. She didn't want to see her friend get hurt again. But Angel wouldn't hurt her, would he? No, she didn't think so. At least not intentionally. Maybe getting involved with Angel would be good for Buffy. It was something to think about. And maybe she'd talk to Spike about it, see what he thought.

"He's definitely a hottie," Willow stated mildly, and easily saw the blush creep up Buffy's cheeks. Uh huh, and Buffy claimed there wasn't any interest. Whatever.

Thankfully for Buffy, Angel's footsteps coming back down the stairs kept Willow from pushing any further. "I better get some plates for the pizza," she said and practically jumped out of her chair.

Still, Willow watched the two of them. And when Angel entered the room and smiled when he saw Buffy moving around the kitchen as if it were her own, she had even further proof that the interest went both ways. But for now, she would let it go.

The group soon settled in to eat the pizza Angel had brought home with him. Conversation was casual, focusing on none of the trouble's that surrounded them. Buffy couldn't have found the event any more pleasant.

For a long four years, her life had been spent mostly alone. She'd done nothing, and had nobody. Well, her father had been there, but the situation between them had been anything but normal. And even if it had been, having her father around was nothing like spending an evening with her friends.

She'd missed Willow terribly while Giles had had her secluded in the attic apartment of their house. After her family had been...killed...and her friends had vanished out of her life, she'd thought they wanted nothing more to do with her. Not that Buffy could have blamed them if that was the case. Her friendship with Willow, Spike and Xander had led to so much trouble for them. If the murders had been the last straw for them and they'd backed away, she would have had to accept it.

Now, though, Buffy knew the truth. They hadn't abandoned her. Because of a lie her father had perpetrated, they had believed her dead. The thought angered her, but she wasn't yet ready to face what he had done. What mattered was that she knew now why they hadn't been around for four years. And what was even more important, Buffy knew that they still believed in her, that they were still her friends. It made her grateful to have such special people in her life.

All too soon for Buffy, dinner was over and Willow had to get home before Spike began to worry about her. She walked Willow to the door, holding her friend's hand tightly. In the foyer, Willow turned and hugged Buffy, holding on slightly longer than normal.

"I'm so glad you came to see me today," Buffy told her.

"Me too," Willow agreed. "I promise to come by often."

Angel, who had followed them out of the kitchen, leaned against the railing of the staircase. "You're welcome to come by anytime," he said to Willow. "Spike and Xander, too."

"Thanks, Angel." Willow paused, chewed hesitantly on her lower lip. With a sigh, she decided to spit out what was on her mind. "I didn't want to say anything earlier, but I started trying to get the information about...everything...from the Sunnydale PD's computer files."

Instantly alert, Angel took a step toward Willow. They needed this information if they were to help clear Buffy's name. "Did you find anything?"

"I didn't have time to try much," Willow answered. "I just started poking around to get an idea of the security and encryption. I don't think I'll have much trouble getting into their files, though."

"That's good," Angel said with a nod. "You'll let me know when you have something? I don't want to call my friend until we have all we can possibly get."

"I will. I'm going to work on it tomorrow," assured Willow as she glanced down at her watch. "Oh! I better go before Spike freaks. Thanks for dinner!"

* * *

From the doorway leading into the living room, Angel watched as Buffy sat on the floor and played with Shadow. She was laughing and smiling, swishing the kitten's feather toy around. It warmed his heart to see her doing something so normal. If he didn't know about her past, he would have thought she was just a regular girl. Which, really, she was. She had just been through hell.

The difference in Buffy in only a short period of time was amazing. When he had first seen her at Giles' house, she'd been silent and non-responsive. Not surprising, Angel thought. She had been kept secluded for four long years. But since the secret Giles had kept since the murders had been revealed, Buffy had come out of her shell. There were still shadows cast over her, but he could see some of her old glory being recaptured. It made him wonder what she had been like before everything had happened, before the rape.

When she looked up and smiled at him, Angel felt the increasingly familiar pounding of his heart. Her smile was so beautiful. And he loved seeing it, loved that she smiled at him. What would have happened, he wondered, if he had met her years before?

"Hey," Buffy greeted him.

"Hey," he returned. "Shadow seems to be having a good time."

"Yeah," she grinned, lifting the feather toy up in the air which made the kitten raise up on her hind legs to reach it.

"So...umm," Angel fumbled slightly. "I thought maybe...that we could watch a movie or something."

"That sounds like-." Fun, she had meant to say, but a knock at the door cut her off.

Angel frowned. He wasn't expecting anyone. And with Buffy staying with him, he had to be careful. "I'll see who it is. Stay in here, okay?" he asked.

Buffy nodded her head and Angel walked out into the foyer. A peek out the side window made him groan. It was Giles. He knew Buffy's father had every right to stop by to see how his daughter was doing, but he knew it wouldn't be easy for her. It would certainly wipe the simple smile off her face. Unfortunately, Angel knew that Giles needed to know what was going on so he had to let the man in.

"Good evening, Angel," Giles greeted. "I was, um, hoping I may speak with Buffy."

Instinct warred with what was right. Angel wanted to tell the man to go away. Buffy had been having such a nice evening, but that would certainly end with a visit from her father. He couldn't tell Giles to go away, though. So he nodded his head and led the older man into the living room where Buffy was waiting.

"Buffy?" Angel said as he entered the room. "Your father is here." As expected, the smile left her face instantly, and she said nothing in response.

"Buffy, how are you?" Giles asked, walking up to her.

"Fine," she answered tightly, her whole body tense.

"Good, good." Giles nodded, shifted nervously. "I was, umm, hoping that you would be ready to come home."

Home. That one word meant almost nothing to Buffy. Her father's house wasn't home. It had stopped being home the night she'd awoken to find her family murdered. It had stopped being home four years earlier when her father had tucked her away in the attic apartment, telling her she couldn't leave. At one time, that house had been her home, the place where she'd run wild with her siblings and grown from a child to a young woman. But it wasn't home anymore. It would never be home again.

"No, I'm not," she told him firmly. "I'm going to stay here at Angel's." The second the words were out of her mouth, Buffy looked uneasily at Angel, realizing what she'd said. What if he didn't want her to stay here? But his smile assured her that she was welcome.

"Oh." Giles frowned, glanced from his daughter to Angel. "Are you sure that is wise, Buffy, given the circumstances?"

She hadn't forgotten her circumstances, but her father's statement brought them to the forefront of her mind. Seeing Giles standing there, expecting her to just follow along and return to her cell made anger boil within her. Anger at everything. The feeling was relatively new to Buffy. For so long she had just taken everything, sat back while her life fell apart around her. Well, she was damn tired of being a victim. The last week or so, since her friends and Angel had shown up in her attic rooms, had shown her what her life could be like: normal. She could visit with her friends, have actual conversations, watch a movie, play with a kitten. She could just be Buffy. There was no way she could go back to living in the solitary bubble her father had, inadvertently or not, placed her in.

"My circumstances?" she parroted, standing to face her father directly. "You mean the fact that you think that I...that I..." she stumbled over her words, hardly able to say them aloud. "That I killed Mom and Dawn and Owen?"

The night before, she'd had a hard time accepting everything, what her father believed, the blank spots in her memory, her friends and Angel's belief in her innocence. But now that it had all had time to sink in, she knew...she knew - despite her empty memory of that night – that she could not have killed her family. They meant everything to her; she loved them. There was just no way she could have killed them. She may not know what really happened, but she knew that her friends were right, she just couldn't have done it.

"How could think I killed them," she whispered, near tears.

"Buffy," Giles said with a sigh. He'd had a long time to deal with this, a long time to face everything that had happened. Buffy hadn't. "I know it is difficult to understand or accept what-."

"NO!" Buffy all but shouted at him. "I did not do it!"

At this point, Angel decided it would be best if he stepped in. He didn't want the situation between Giles and Buffy to get any worse than it already was. "She's right, Giles. She didn't kill them."

"But...but...," Giles stuttered, completely not expecting Angel's support of Buffy's innocence. "I don't understand. I found her that night. I saw the note," he went on, referring to the note that Buffy had supposedly left after killing her family.

"I've been looking over all of the information I could find on the crime scene, and there's no way Buffy could have done it." Angel left out the fact that from the beginning, from the first time he had heard the story from Willow and Spike, he had not been able to imagine Buffy killing her family. He didn't think Giles would understand that.

"But the police...they investigated," Giles pointed out.

An unexpected laugh erupted from Buffy at the very idea of the Sunnydale police investigating something to do with her honestly. Ever since she had accused the police chief's son of raping her, she had become public enemy number one. It was by no way a stretch of the imagination to believe they would falsify information to make her guilty of not one, but three murders.

Angel didn't respond to Giles comment about the police, nor Buffy's sardonic laughter. Instead, he walked over to the book shelf and picked up the file he had placed there the night before. He approached Giles, handed him the papers. "This is everything I have put together."

Taking the folder hesitantly, wondering what in the world could be inside, Giles barely held back from glaring at Angel. What kinds of thoughts was this man, his new employee and the person he was reluctantly entrusting the safety of his daughter to, putting into Buffy's head? Four long years of believing his daughter guilty could not just be pushed aside on a single person's say so. He'd seen the note, seen Buffy. He'd lived with the reality since then. Still, he opened the folder and began reading the pages with Angel's notes written on them.

A minute passed, then two, as Giles read over the papers. Angel could see the man's face grow pale even in the dim light of the room. Giles was obviously beginning to understand the full implications of all that Angel had found out.

The sheets fluttered to the floor unheeded after Giles had finished. He sank down into the nearest chair and yanked his glasses off. His head fell into his hands as he tried to fight off a thousand pulsing emotions. The truth was clear as day now, the very harsh truth that contradicted everything he had believed.

"Dear Lord," he mumbled into his hands. Slowly, he raised his head and looked at Buffy who was standing very still a few feet away. "Buffy...I...I am so sorry. I...I don't know what to say."

Her father's anguish resonated deeply within Buffy. She wanted to go to him, to hug him, but she just couldn't do it. How was she supposed to push aside the last four years as if they never existed, as if he hadn't believer her a murderer and virtually locked her in a cell? She couldn't. The hurt was just too strong. So she remained where she was, silently watching her father from a distance.

Angel saw Buffy's indecision and hurt for her. He knew the two needed to talk. Eventually. But right now, it was too soon, emotions were too close to the surface, and Buffy wasn't yet ready to deal with Giles on that level. So he went with the next item of importance.

"This can't go on, Giles. Something needs to be done about the police and mayor here in Sunnydale," he stated emphatically. Giles, however, was not listening.

"Don't you see!" Giles said, leaping out of his chair. "This is all the more reason to return home! If they find out you're alive, who knows what they will do to you!"

Buffy's mouth dropped open in shock. After all that he had learned, her father still wanted to banish her to her attic rooms. Her innocence didn't matter at all. "No," she whispered brokenly, backing away from him.

A hand lightly grasped her should and Buffy looked up to find that Angel had come to stand next to her. His eyes were sympathetic and reassuring, helping her to push back the blinding fear that had arisen after her father's proclamation. She took a deep breath, stiffened her shoulders. "I'm not going back there, Daddy."

"Buffy, please," Giles implored. "It's not safe for you!"

"Am I just supposed to spend the rest of my life hiding on the top floor of our house?" she asked sadly.

"I'll...I'll send you to England, or Italy," Giles posed desperately. Buffy had to see the danger in staying in a town where the police had all but framed her for murder. "You always wanted to travel!"

"You know that's not the answer, Giles," Angel interrupted, his hand still resting lightly on Buffy's shoulder. "She'll never be free unless the truth, all of the truth, comes out, and those responsible are made to pay for what they've done."

"Buffy, please," Giles tried again. "You have to see what kind of danger you are in."

He was right, Buffy knew that. She was in danger. What really happened the night her family was killed was still a mystery, but it was becoming clearer and cleared that the police had had some involvement. If they knew about her...she shuddered. She didn't want to think about what would happened then. But Angel was right as well. If she ever wanted to be free, to live her life again, she had to face it. All of it.

"I can't, Daddy," she said softly, tiredly, and turned, walking out of the room without looking back.

Giles watched her leave, fighting the urge to grab her and race back home with her. His shoulders sank as he faced Angel once more. "I hope you know what you are doing."

"I do," Angel stated firmly. He proceeded to explain to Giles what he intended to do with the new information, how Willow was trying to access the police files, and about his friend with the FBI who he planned to enlist to help.

"I don't agree with this," Giles said once Angel had finished.

"It's her choice," Angel responded. "It's what she wants – needs – to do."

Sighing loudly, Giles pivoted and began to exit the room. At the doorway, he paused and turned to Angel. "I'm trusting you to protect her, Angel."

"I'll do whatever I can to keep her safe," Angel assured him. And he would do anything and everything to make sure no harm came to Buffy.

He just hoped that would be enough.

* * *

TBC 


	21. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20

* * *

**

Shortly after Giles left, Angel ascended the stairs to the second floor after not having found Buffy anywhere on the first floor. He could only hope that the visit with her father hadn't caused a setback. She had been doing so well, not perfect, but the vacant look that had been in her eyes the first time he'd met her was rarely present anymore. The unhappy world she had been living in for so long was finally beginning to release her, and Angel didn't want to see anything ruin that. But he supposed there wasn't anything more he could do to make things easier for her. He could only be there for her as she dealt with her past.

At the door to Buffy's room – the guest room – Angel was surprised to find Buffy sitting on the bed playing with Shadow. Her shoulders were still tense, but there were no other outward signs of distress. She seemed to be dealing better than he expected with the conversation with her father.

"Buffy?" he said softly. "Are you all right."

She didn't answer immediately. Was she all right? Not exactly. But in the grand scheme of things, she was...okay.

"Yeah," she answered with a shrug.

Angel entered the room and sat on the opposite side of the bed, reaching a hand out to scratch the kitten's head. "I'm sorry if what he said hurt." That was lame, Angel told himself, but what else could he say?

"It's okay." She shrugged again. Sitting back, she crossed her legs and looked up at Angel. "Honestly? It felt...sort of good to confront him and to stand up for myself. I don't know if that makes sense.

"I understand," he assured her.

"It's just," she began, pausing to think for a moment. "It's like for so long I've had no control over anything..."

"And tonight you took some of it back," Angel filled in the rest.

"Yeah," she agreed then sighed. "I understand why he wants me to keep hiding, but I just...can't do it any more."

Angel could see that Buffy's thoughts were now directed inwards, towards what he could only guess was what she'd been through the past few years. He didn't want to force her to drudge up more bad memories, but he also knew it would probably help her to talk about everything. So he asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Simple question, Buffy thought, but could she talk about it? About all of it? She peered up at Angel through her lashes and considered. He already knew most of what had happened in her life, Buffy knew that, but could she be completely honest with him? For some reason, she knew she could. She knew Angel would listen. Maybe he wouldn't understand, but he would still listen.

Scrunching back against the headboard of the bed, Buffy wrapped her arms around her knees and took a deep breath. With that, she began. "I guess I had a lot of the same fantasies as most sixteen year old girls when it comes to guys. I'd dated occasionally, but nothing serious. I always thought that someday I'd meet Mr. Right and I'd just...know." She laughed sadly and shook her head. "That probably sounds stupid."

"Not at all," Angel disagreed whole-heartedly. "Even though I'm a guy, I always hoped it would be that way for me."

"Really?" Buffy inquired, surprised. She hadn't anticipated he would say that.

"There has to be some way of knowing you're...compatible with someone," he furthered. He didn't add that he was beginning to realize that belief that a connection could exist between two people was in fact true. That would definitely scare her.

"I always hoped there was," she reiterated. "I wanted whoever..." Buffy blushed and glanced away. "Whoever I slept with for the first time to be someone special. It's not like I was waiting for marriage or anything, but my mom had always told me that sex was supposed to mean something and that you should really care about the person you were with."

"I think that's a very smart way to be," Angel responded as he remembered his own misguided foray into sex when he was sixteen.

Buffy heard his words, but they barely registered. Her mind had already drifted back to that day, the day of her seventeenth birthday.

"I had a small crush on Cameron. It wasn't anything major, but I thought he was cute, and he'd always been pretty nice to me. Plus he was Faith's – my friend's – brother. That day...I-I was supposed to meet Spike in the library to help him with something, but I'd decided to stop by the pool to see some of Cam's swim meet. When I got there...Cam was sitting on the bench. He smiled at me and told me that he wasn't swimming that day because he'd pulled a stomach muscle or something." Buffy's breath shuddered out heavily as she tried to fight off the fear and the pain. Even seven years later, it was still something that turned her blood cold.

"You don't have to tell me, Buffy," Angel told her, hating to see her hurting like this.

But she continued on. "He asked me to go grab a soda with him from one of the machines out in the hallway, and I said sure. But...but when we p-passed the girls locker room, he grabbed my arm and pulled me inside."

Buffy closed her eyes, a few tears slipping out from beneath her lashes. "After...after he laughed and told me that's what teases got. He-he acted like the whole thing was my fault."

"Nothing you did caused his...actions," Angel said in all seriousness. Inside, his heart was breaking over the violation of Buffy's body and soul. No one should have to go through something like that.

"I know. I think somewhere inside I always knew that," Buffy answered, taking a few deep, cleansing breaths. "But it was like...he took something from me, something I can't ever get back."

Scooting forward a little, Angel hesitantly, carefully, took one of Buffy's hands and felt utterly gratified when she didn't shy from his touch. "What happened that day wasn't sex, and it sure wasn't making love. Your body may have been...changed," he continued delicately. "But you'll have a first time someday. You'll meet somebody special, and when the time is right, when the trust is there, you'll have the choice to give him something special, something you've never given to any other man before."

"What if I never meet the right guy? Or what if...what if I'm never ready for...that," she posed, her eyes staring down at a non-existent spot on the comforter.

"Only you will know if it's right. Your heart will tell you," Angel affirmed, lightly squeezing her hand.

Buffy gave Angel a weak smile, wondering if he was right, hoping that he was. She laid her head on her upraised knees and stared out the window at the darkening sky. "The first few weeks after...I was in such a daze. I barely remember going to the hospital, or talking to the police. It's just one big blur. The first clear memory I have from after it," she breathed in deeply and forced herself to say the word that always stuck in her throat. "From after the...rape...is the day I went back to school. I stayed home for two weeks, and that morning my mom drove me to school. I told her I didn't need her to walk me in. So she let me out and pulled away. The minute I got out of the car everyone was staring at me. I could hear them talking about me all the way into school. And when...when I got to me locker... someone had painted the word 'slut' on the front." Her shoulders sagged and her eyes pressed closed tightly. "That's the first thing I really remember."

Disgust and rage rose in Angel. How could people be so cruel? He wished there was something he could say to Buffy to make the pain and the memories go away. But he knew there was nothing. So he continued to listen, offering a shoulder for her to lean on.

"That night, an officer came to the house and told me that they wouldn't be pressing charges. He said...he said that there was no evidence to support that it was a sexual assault. And then he went on to tell me how wrong it was to falsely accuse someone of rape, and that I was lucky Cameron and his family weren't taking action against me."

"Son of a bitch," Angel mumbled, furious at the so-called police of this town.

"In some ways, all that was worse than the rape," she started to explain. "Suddenly, I was the girl who cried rape. People who had been casual friends turned their backs on me and called me names. Even my teachers looked down at me. I couldn't go anywhere without someone saying something nasty to me."

Using her free hand, Buffy swiped at the tears that had gathered on her cheeks. She wondered if she would ever be able to think about that period of her life without crying. It didn't seem like she ever would.

"Then there was all the stuff that Cam and his friends did. It got so bad that my parents pulled me out of school after my junior year. My mom home-schooled me my senior year," she relayed.

That was something Angel hadn't heard before. Under the circumstances, he couldn't help but think that it had probably been the best thing for her. Without having to go to school every day, she could at least avoid some of the trouble. It was something she shouldn't have had to do, though.

"I stayed home most of the time. It was better that way. In the beginning, Xander and the others would come over, but being friends with me was causing him problems, so he stopped. And then Faith left town," she told Angel, though he was already aware of Xander's situation. "Willow, Spike, and Oz were the only ones who kept coming over. They tried to get me to go out sometimes, but we mostly stayed at my house and watched movies or just hung out."

"They're good friends," Angel said needlessly.

"Yeah," Buffy agreed with a small smile. "My father kept promising that we would move soon, but it wasn't that easy because of the magazine. He wanted to move us and the business up to LA, but there just wasn't any way to do it. And then...then it was too late."

The room was silent for several minutes, the only sound was that of the timid purrs of Shadow at the foot of the bed. Angel wanted to say something, but what was there he could possibly say? He couldn't change the past. He couldn't make her forget any of it. He couldn't do a damn thing.

Finally, Buffy broke the quiet. "I thought my life couldn't get any worse than it had been. But nothing could have been worse than finding Mom and Owen and Dawn...like that." She choked back a sob, willing herself not to cry again. "I didn't understand what had happened or what was going on. It was like...like some horrible nightmare I couldn't wake up from."

"You were probably in shock," Angel pointed out. He hoped it had just been shock, but he wouldn't have been surprised if her mind had just snapped for a while afterwards.

"I remember Daddy carrying me out of the family room and putting me somewhere, but it's all fuzzy. Then..." Buffy frowned and tried to push through the jumble of memories. "Then I'm in the attic, and there's a mattress on the floor."

"Did Giles say anything to you about what was going on?" Angel questioned, wondering how her father had dealt with the situation.

"I...I don't know." She shook her head in confusion. "All I knew was that Mom, Dawn, and Owen were gone. And then at some point I realized Willow, Spike and Oz weren't coming to see me anymore. I thought...I thought they'd finally had enough of it all."

"So you just stayed up in the attic rooms?" he pushed a little further.

Buffy nodded her head slowly. "Daddy told me I needed to stay there all the time. I...I thought he hated me because of everything. And not being able to leave just...didn't matter for a while."

"But then you started to sneak out," Angel assumed, thinking of the supposed ghost sitings.

"I wanted to see the beach, and I just wanted to be anywhere but where I was," she explained. "All I could think about there was what had happened. I couldn't sleep, and there wasn't really anything to do. So I would sneak out at night sometimes."

She sighed and leaned her head back against the headboard. "It was so nice just to sit on the beach and watch the ocean. When Daddy figured out what I was doing, he got really angry and told me I couldn't leave the house, that it was very important. I just thought he was ashamed of me or something. So I would just go out late at night when I was sure there wouldn't be anyone around."

"The last four years must have been very hard for you," Angel said, unable to imagine even a small amount of what she'd gone through.

"I just wish I'd known everything," Buffy answered, her eyes drifting to the window once again. "I wish he'd told me why he was keeping me there. How could he think I'd killed them, Angel? How could he let my friends think I was dead?"

"I'm not defending him" Angel began, trying to think of the best way to pose his thoughts. "But when it all happened, you're father was in shock and hurting. All he had to go by were the barest facts, and..."

"And they pointed at me," she finished flatly. "But if he thought I'd...I'd killed them, why did he hide me? Why didn't he turn me in?"

"Because he loves you," he stated emphatically. "No matter what you do, he will always love you, and the last thing he probably wanted was for you to go to jail, or worse. He was doing whatever he could to protect you."

"I guess," she replied eventually.

Angel could tell that Buffy was tiring, the conversation was wearing on her. He didn't want to push her any further. And really, he'd only initiated the conversation for her benefit. She needed to talk about what she'd been through. It seemed like she had run out of steam now, though. So Angel gave a slight tug on her hand and stood up from the bed. "Come on, it's late enough so why don't we go for a walk on the beach."

Buffy allowed Angel to lead her out of the room and down the stairs, grateful that he'd seem her need for a distraction. Nothing helped free her mind like a quiet walk on the beach. And with Angel with her, it wouldn't seem as lonely this time.

* * *

They walked hand in hand on the beach for nearly an hour, only heading back when the breeze coming off the ocean got too chilly. There wasn't much talk between them, both simply enjoyed the lulling sound of the waves lapping at their feet. To Buffy, it was one of the most normal things she had done in longer than she could remember. She wished they could just keep walking and forget about everything else. But she was wearing a tank top, and her arms were freezing.

As they neared his house, Angel abruptly stopped and placed his body between Buffy and the structure. He squinted to get a better look at the house, all the while cursing himself for being so damn stupid. What the hell was he going to do now?

Beside him, Buffy was standing perfectly still, confused at Angel's actions. "What's wrong?"

"There's someone at the house," he answered as quietly as possible.

The worry in Angel's voice caused Buffy body to stiffen and she gripped his hand tightly. "Who is it?"

"I can't tell."

Taking a risk, Buffy poked her head slightly beyond Angel and stared in the direction of the house. As she saw what Angel had seen, a person sitting on the front porch stairs, she instantly relaxed. "It's Willow," she told him with a relieved chuckle.

"Are you sure? He asked, still squinting.

"Yeah, no one has that color hair but Willow," Buffy responded.

Angel wasn't so sure, but he trusted Buffy and allowed her to tug him the rest of the way down the beach. Soon, they were close enough to the house that Angel could tell Buffy was right. There was Willow sitting quietly on the stairs, watching them approach. He glanced down at his watch and wondered why the young woman was there at nearly midnight.

"Hey, Willow," Buffy greeted her happily, glad to see her friend.

Willow spared a curious glance at Buffy and Angel's hands that were still locked together. Interesting, she thought, but pushed it aside for now. She wasn't here to talk about whatever was going on between the two of them. "Hey, guys," she returned the greeting.

"Is everything okay?" Angel asked, worried at her presence this late at night.

"Yeah," Willow nodded and stood from the stairs. "I can't stay, but I wanted to get these to you as soon as possible." She held out a large envelope to Angel.

"What is it?" he inquired, taking the heavy envelope from her.

"It's all the stuff I printed out from the police department's files on...everything," she forced out, her eyes flicking anxiously at Buffy.

"Oh," Angel half-gasped, his gaze dropping to the envelope in his hands. "Anything, uh, interesting.

Realizing they were beating around the bush on her account, Buffy dropped Angel's hand, and stood tall, crossing her arms across her middle. "You don't have to protect me. I know what's on those papers."

Angel instantly looked guilty while Willow averted her eyes and poked at the wooden stairs with the toe of her shoe. Reaching down to pick up her purse, Willow draped it over her shoulder before speaking again. "I've got to run, Spike's waiting for me at home. I'll stop by tomorrow and we can go through everything together."

"Thanks, Willow," Angel gave her a nod and stood back while Buffy and Willow said their goodbyes. After the redhead had left, Buffy tiredly walked back up the stairs and into the house with Angel trailing behind her.

Once inside, Angel dropping the envelope onto one of the small tables in the foyer. Buffy stared at him oddly. "Aren't you going to open it?" she wondered out loud.

"It can wait until tomorrow. There's nothing we can do with the information tonight anyway, and we're both tired," he responded, already heading towards the staircase. "Come on, we better make sure Shadow hasn't gotten into trouble while we were out."

After one last glance at the envelope, the one that contained the story of her life, Buffy followed along.

* * *

The next morning, Angel was up early and sitting at his desk. The papers that had been in the envelope were spread out across the smooth wood, telling Angel all he'd already known, but this time with facts instead of speculation. He skimmed them one last time before picking up the phone at his elbow.

"Gunn," he said when his called was answered. "I'm going to be faxing you a file I want you to look over."

* * *

TBC 


	22. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21

* * *

**

When Angel exited his office after speaking with his sister's boyfriend, Gunn, he was surprised to find Buffy standing at one of the front windows of the house, staring outside. In the short time she'd been staying with him, he'd noticed that she usually stayed up late, and slept through the morning. So he hadn't been expecting to see her up.

He stood in the doorway between his office and the living room and watched her for a moment. There was something...longing...about her posture there at the window. Her forehead looked to be nearly touching the glass, and the palm of her right hand was pressed against the boundary, fingers spread along it. What was she thinking about, he wondered? He didn't have to wonder long as Buffy soon spoke.

"Do you think I'll ever be free, Angel?"

The question started him a bit. "Free?" he repeated dumbly.

Finally, Buffy turned away from the window. She paced across the room, and found herself gazing out one of the back windows. Different sight, but the same feeling stole over her. So she forced herself to look away and back to Angel.

"All those years Daddy kept me in the house, I didn't understand it, and I snuck out at night, but at the same time, the attic was where I felt...safe. I wanted to be able to go places, but I also didn't want to leave." She paused, scrunched up her nose. "Does that make sense?"

"Yeah," Angel nodded. "You wanted to be able to leave, but you don't know if you actually would have done it if you could, right?"

"I guess that's what I mean," she shrugged, jammed her hands in the pockets of her shorts. "I don't know. But now...now it's like I want to go everywhere. I want to go to the mall and buy new clothes. I want to go to a pizza place and sit down and eat. I want to the movie theater and buy popcorn and a soda and watch a movie. I just want to do everything. It's like an itch I can't get rid of."

"That's understandable," Angel replied sympathetically. "You haven't been able to do all those things for a long time." And he wished he could take her to do all those things. She deserved to be able to be free to do whatever she wanted. Soon, he told himself, soon she would have the freedom she wanted.

"But why now?" she asked. "I spent the last four years with only a vague need to go out, but now it's constant, and right there in front of me all the time."

"Because everything is changing now," he explained, leaning a shoulder against the bookshelf next to him. "The truth is starting to come out, your friends are back in your life. All the lies that have kept you a prisoner for so long are crumbling and it's to be expected that you'd want some kind of normal life."

"What if I never get it?" she again posed her original question. "What if your plan doesn't work and I'm never free?"

"It will work," Angel said vehemently.

"But what if it doesn't?" she repeated emphatically. "This has gone on for seven years. What if it goes on forever? Will I always be stuck hiding in somebody's house?"

Angel hated the very idea of that. Buffy was a vibrant, young woman. She shouldn't be spending her days hiding from the world. She should be out living life. He had faith that the truth would come out, and her name would be cleared. But what if...the system had already failed her so many times. What if it did again?

"You could go somewhere, like Giles suggested," he posed. "Australia, or England. Somewhere nobody knows you and start a new life."

"I guess," Buffy replied, not entirely enthused by the idea. "But I'd still be considered dead and a murderer."

Walking over to Buffy, Angel took one of her hands and looked into her eyes. "I promise I'll do everything I can to make sure the truth – the real truth – comes out."

"I know I've said this before, but thank you for everything, Angel," she told him sincerely. "If it weren't for you, I'd still be hiding out in my rooms and my friends would still think I'm dead. Whatever else happens, I'm grateful for that."

"I just want to see you happy," Angel responded in complete honesty. It was the truth. He just wanted her to be happy without having to look over her shoulder all the time.

An awkward moment followed as Buffy stared up at Angel, her eyes meeting his. Butterflies settled in her stomach, and she swore her hands trembled. The way he was looking at her, it was as if he was gazing inside her. She had the distinct impression that he wanted to kiss her again. It seemed like eons ago that he had kissed her by the door in the kitchen. Did she want him to do it again?

Old fears resurfaced inside her. She told herself she was being stupid. Angel was a good guy. He wouldn't ever hurt her. But she couldn't push the fears, the memories, away. So she shifted away, breaking the intimate moment.

"You called your friend," she said suddenly, remembering the conversation she had accidentally overheard.

Angel was abruptly aware of the broken moment. He wanted to kick himself. He'd been so tempted to lean down and touch his lips to hers. Stupid, he cursed silently. This was definitely not the time to be putting moves on Buffy. There may never be a time for that. She needed his help, not his come-ons. So he took a huge mental step back and focused on her question.

"Yes, I just got off the phone with him," he answered.

"What did he say?"

Angel shrugged and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Not much. I really didn't tell him anything, just that I was going to be faxing some stuff to him. And I asked him to look it over and then call me back."

"Why didn't you tell him about," she waved her hand around, "all this?" Buffy inquired.

"I didn't want to prejudice him," Angel explained. "If I told him the situation first, he'd read the files with preconceived notions. I wanted him to read the files cold."

"Oh, that makes sense," she said, considering it.

Angel could see her nervousness. Her whole life depended on his idea. It was a heavy weight to bear. He hoped Gunn came through for him. "He'll see just what I saw in those files, Buffy. He'll see that you weren't the one."

But she wasn't so sure about that. She turned away and asked, "so who is this friend of yours?"

"He's actually my sisters boyfriend."

"Really?" Buffy posed curiously, facing Angel again. "How did she meet him?"

"He worked for the LA Police Department for a while, and few years ago there was a problem in the building Fred lived in. Some vandalism, nuisance stuff. Gunn was one of the officers who handled it, and they hit it off," he relayed, remembering how worried he'd been when Fred had reached him on location in Africa and told him about the problem.

"Wow, they've been together for years?" The idea of two people being together for so long was almost foreign to Buffy. Practically everybody she knew, well, had known, had been divorced or broken up. The only relationship she'd seen work had been her parents, but she quickly pushed thoughts of them out of her mind.

"Sort of," Angel responded. "They dated for a while, then broke up and Fred was seeing someone else but that didn't work out. When Gunn came back to California after his training at Quantico to join the FBI, they started dating again."

"His name is Gunn?" Who named their kid Gunn? Buffy wondered.

"It's Charles Gunn, actually, but everyone calls him Gunn except for my sister."

"So you like him?" Buffy pressed further, finding herself intensely curious about Angel, his life, and the people in it.

"Yeah, he's a good guy. I hope he and Fred stay together." He glanced down at his watch and winced. "I better go, Giles is...," he trailed off, realizing he'd said her father's name.

"It's okay," she assured him. "You don't have to avoid the subject of my dad."

"Well, I um...we have a meeting this morning, so I need to get going," he finished his previous statement.

"Okay."

"You'll be fine here today?" He worried about leaving her alone. With the way things went in this town, Angel didn't want anything else to happen to Buffy. But he needed to go to work.

"Yeah. I think I'll watch some TV, or maybe read a book," Buffy answered casually. She really had no idea what she would spend her day doing. But surely she could find something. Again the restlessness rose. She couldn't go anywhere, not even to a convenience store to get a soda or a sandwich. She was stuck here.

"All right," he said with a nod and started to walk away. "I should be back by five."

"Okay. Tell my..." She stopped, unable to voice what had popped into her head. "Never mind.

"I'll tell him your fine," Angel filled in comfortingly, sensing what she'd been about to say.

"Thanks."

* * *

The day was half gone before Angel the chance to sit back and take a breath. He'd been on the go since the moment he'd walked into the door. And he certainly couldn't forget the meeting he'd had with Giles. Uncomfortable wasn't exactly the word he would use to describe it. They'd been wary and tense, circling each other like a pair of warring buzzards after a piece of road kill. Only, in this case, Buffy was the ultimate prize. Giles still believed they were doing the wrong thing. But Angel hadn't backed down.

Checking the time on the corner of his computer screen, he saw that it was two-thirty. He still had a few hours to go before he could leave. The urge to call Buffy, to make sure she was okay, to hear her voice, rose within him, but he ignored it. She probably wouldn't like him checking up on her. She needed some freedom. Plus, he couldn't take the chance of someone overhearing him. If he slipped up and called her by name, all hell could break loose. So he looked back at his computer and his current project.

Several minutes later, the phone on his desk rang. His first thought was that Buffy was calling him. But then he told himself that was stupid. She wouldn't call, and besides, she didn't even have his work number.

"Hello?" he said after picking up the receiver.

"Angel? What's going on?" his sister asked immediately.

Angel winced. He should have expected this. Still, he played dumb. "What do you mean?"

"Charles told me you called at the crack of dawn this morning, and that you asked him to look at something, newspaper clippings, and some other papers," she explained hurriedly.

"It's nothing, just something I came across," he lied. He didn't want to worry his sister, though he knew she would anyway.

"Angel..."

"Really, Fred. It's just something I wanted Gunn's thoughts on." Another lie. God, he hated lying to Fred, but the less people who knew the situation at the moment, the better. He'd make it up to her.

"You're not telling me something," she pressed, her concern for her brother evident in her voice.

Angel sighed and rubbed his forehead. He should have known she wouldn't let up. "I can't explain it all right now, but I promise I'll tell you everything when I can."

"Are you in trouble, Angel?" she asked.

"No." Well, not really. He could be if things got messy, and if he got on the wrong side of some bad people, namely the mayor and the police chief. He really hoped that didn't happen.

"Angel," she started, the paused. "Just be careful, okay?"

"I will, I promise," he tried to reassure her. "Listen, I've got to go. I have a meeting in five minutes. I will call you soon."

"All right. Bye.

"Love you. Bye."

* * *

When Angel returned back to his beach house, it was a little past five. The foyer was dark and silent when he entered and worry instantly crept up inside him. Had something happened to Buffy? He started to shout out her name, fear clenching in his gut, but logic prevailed. What if there was someone in his house, someone who shouldn't be there? He carefully, quietly, set his briefcase on the floor, but kept his keys in his hand, not a good weapon but a weapon nonetheless.

Just then, he caught the low murmur of something, voices maybe, coming from the direction of the living room. He walked on his tiptoes toward the room, wondering what he'd find. When he peered through the doorway, he wanted to laugh at himself. The murmur came from the TV, which was on with the volume apparently turned down low. And there on the couch was Buffy, sound asleep.

He entered the room further and gazed down at her. She was stretched out fully on the couch, her head on a throw pillow, and one hand tucked under her cheek. She looked absolutely at peace, not a single worry line marring her beautiful face. He was glad she was getting some decent sleep. After all that she'd been through, he had a feeling she didn't often have nightmare-free sleep.

Shadow lifted her furry little head from where she slept curled up next to Buffy's chest. The kitten cocked her head and blinked at Angel, as if accusing him of disturbing her nap. Angel grinned and patted Shadow's head. He wouldn't wake up Buffy. She probably needed the sleep. So he left the room just as quietly as he'd entered. There were plenty of things he could do before Buffy awoke.

* * *

Buffy came awake slowly, her eyes fluttering open. She yawned and lifted her head, wondering how long she'd been out. She really hadn't meant to fall asleep, but after watching TV for a while, she'd found herself exhausted. Next to her, Shadow meowed and stood up, giving a little shake to work out the kinks.

"Still here, huh?" she said to the kitten, scratching behind her ears. "You must have been as tired as I was."

Shadow meowed again then jumped off the couch and stalked out of the room. Buffy sat up, noticing for the first time that it was now dark out. Wow, she must have slept for hours. Was Angel home? she wondered. He had to be, it was way past five, when he'd said he would likely be home. He'd probably decided to leave her sleep. It was something he'd do.

She rose from the couch and stretched, her back protesting from the long nap on the not-as-soft-as-they-looked cushions. In mid-stretch, her stomach growled, reminding her it had been hours since she'd eaten lunch. Maybe she'd go find Angel and see if he had eaten dinner yet.

Angel wasn't in his office so Buffy headed for the kitchen. The room was dark except for the little light on above the stove. Angel obviously wasn't in here either. Before she turned to leave, she noticed the back door was open and that there was a light on outside. She walked over to the door and peered outside. And there was Angel. A whole lot more of Angel than she'd ever seen before.

Her hand stopped midway to the doorknob and she found her eyes riveted to the sight before her. Under the pale light on the back deck, she could see Angel standing next to the hot tub, wearing only a pair of short swimming trunks, with water dripping down his body. His almost naked body.

Oh. My. God. she thought, her eyes taking in the well-toned muscles, the dark tan, the broad back. Her mouth went dry and her hands trembled. He was gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous.

Buffy could do nothing but stand there and stare at him as he toweled off. All sorts of foreign feelings and emotions assaulted, things she hadn't felt since before...

Instantly, all thoughts of Angel's half-naked body fled her mind at the reminder of what had happened seven years before. She knew what men could do. She knew how they could hurt her. This was wrong. These feelings were wrong. She wasn't ready for any of this.

Backing away from the door, Buffy tried to calm her now rapid breathing. Angel wouldn't hurt her. She knew that. But she couldn't forget what had happened with Cameron. She couldn't ever forget. Angel was wrong. She wouldn't ever be ready to...to be with a man again.

Her heart was still pounding as she tried to think of something, anything, other than the thoughts currently invading her mind. Dinner. Yes, she was hungry. She'd find something to eat. Hurrying over to the pantry, she tried to push everything out of her mind but soothing her still growling stomach.

Five minutes later, she was standing at the stove when she heard Angel enter through the back door. She kept her back turned, focusing solely on the task of fixing dinner.

"Hey," he greeted her.

"Hi," she answered back, casting a quick glance over her shoulder, glad to see that he'd put a shirt on. "I thought I'd make some pasta for dinner." She shook the box of noodles she'd found in the pantry.

Angel was about to tell her she didn't need to cook, but he bit back the response. He could tell she was tense about something. Seeing that, he decided not to say anything about seeing her at the door only a few moments ago. He didn't know what was bothering her, but something told him it had to do with him. The last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable.

"Sounds good," he replied with a gentle smile.

Before either he or Buffy could say anything else, the phone rang. Angel walked over the cordless phone sitting on one end of the kitchen counter and picked it up. "Hello?"

Gunn's voice came back through to him loud and clear.

"Angel, man, what the hell have you gotten yourself into down there?"

* * *

TBC


	23. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22

* * *

**

Willow flopped back against the couch in Angel's living room and dropped her feet onto the coffee table. "Ahhh," she sighed in relaxation. "I really needed a day off. Sometimes I think owing a business is more trouble than it's worth."

"It must be nice, though. Having something that's all your own," Buffy clarified. She sat on the opposite side of the couch and pulled her feet up to sit cross-legged.

Ten minutes earlier, Willow had arrived to spend a couple of hours hanging out with Buffy while Angel and Spike went to Giles' house to pick up some more of Buffy's things. Buffy had tried to convince herself to go with them. After all, it would be easier for her to get the things she wanted if she went. But she just couldn't go back there. At least not yet.

Buffy glanced over at Willow and smiled. She was glad to have her there for the afternoon. She was glad to have her best friend back in her life period. After going so long without anyone to talk to, to have a girls' afternoon with, it was just nice to do something so normal.

"It can be kinda cool to own a business," Willow answered Buffy's question. "But it's a lot of work, all those rules and regulations, ordering stock, the accounting, and all that stuff."

"Why did you open up the cafe here in Sunnydale?" Buffy asked, having wondered since she'd first heard about Willow and Spike's business. With everything that had happened in the past, she would have thought her friends would have wanted to go elsewhere.

"Money," Willow stated plainly. "We couldn't afford to move and open a business. Plus, my Dad was our financial backer and he wouldn't help out if we moved. He wanted me to stay here in Sunnydale."

"But wasn't there...," Buffy trailed off, not sure how to put her thoughts into words.

"Trouble?" Willow filled in. "Yeah, at first. Cam's family put pressure on their friends to stay away, and they tried to throw up roadblocks for us, but we stuck with it. We had a decent amount of business from the start. The high school kids came in, tourists, plus newcomers to Sunnydale. It's worked out well enough."

"I'm sorry that...what happened to me caused you guys problems," Buffy apologized solemnly. Her friendships with Willow and Spike had put them at risk. She hated that all her friends had suffered because of her.

"It's not your fault, Buffy," Willow assured her sternly. "You never did anything wrong. Cam's family, the mayor, and whoever else, are to blame for all of this."

Buffy sighed. She knew Willow was right. She hadn't done anything wrong. She hadn't asked Cam to rape her, or for everything that had happened afterwards. But everything that had gone wrong in her life, and her friends' and families' lives, went back to that day in the girl's locker room. If only she'd stopped Cam. If only people had believed her. If only.

That was a useless line of thought, and Buffy knew it. The past was the past. She couldn't change it, and she couldn't forget it. And unfortunately, she still as of yet had been able to move past it. She wouldn't be able to move past it until everything with the deaths of her family had been settled. What were the chances of that happening? Buffy wondered.

"Do you think Angel's right? That we'll be able to find out who did it?" Buffy asked, putting her worries into words.

"Honestly?" Willow looked directly at Buffy, trying to decide what she should say. The truth seemed best. "I don't know. I hope so, and I think it's definitely possible. But I just don't know."

"What will I do if this doesn't get worked out?" Buffy didn't really want to think about that, but she knew it was something she needed to consider. "Angel talked to his friend last night, and the guy seemed to think Angel was nuts for asking him to look at the information. What if he won't help? Or if he doesn't see what Angel saw in the file?"

"Everything will be fine. Angel's friend will help, and he'll believe you're innocent," Willow tried to assure her. She just hoped she was right. Buffy was starting to look depressed, so Willow decided to change the subject. "So how are things with Angel?" Unfortunately, the distraction tactic didn't work as well as she hoped. A dark, pensive look came over Buffy's face at the mention of Angel.

"Fine," Buffy lied. Well, it's wasn't a complete lie, but it wasn't the complete truth either.

Seeing through the deception, Willow eyed Buffy expectantly. When the blonde said nothing, Willow asked, "what's up?"

What exactly was the problem? Buffy thought to herself. She debated the issue for a moment, but she knew what the issue was. It was the past she couldn't get over. Standing, Buffy paced slowly around the room, wondering what to say to Willow. In the end, she settled on the truth. Maybe Willow could help her understand her feelings better.

"It's all so...confusing," Buffy settled on saying first.

"What is?"

Releasing a loud sigh, Buffy eased herself down onto the stool in front of one of the living room arm chairs. She rested her arms on her thighs and leaned forward. "One minute, everything is normal, and me and Angel are just two people. There's this..."

At Buffy's pause, Willow supplied the term for her. "Attraction?"

Attraction was a bit tame, Buffy said to herself, but yeah, that was it. "Do you know how long it's been since I've had these...feelings?...for a guy?" she asked, then didn't bother to let Willow answer. "Not since before...before the rape."

"Before all that happened," Buffy continued. "I had a crush on a new guy practically every two weeks. I wondered what it would be like to kiss them, to go out on dates, or if I would meet the guy who I'd want to...you know...with. And then after...after the rape, I couldn't think about those kinds of things without feeling sick to my stomach."

"That's completely normal, Buffy," Willow assured her. "You went through something utterly horrible, it's normal to have a fear of intimacy afterwards."

"I know," Buffy answered with a sigh. She did know that. She'd been told it numerous times. "But there are moments with Angel when I wonder about kissing him, about other stuff. It's like the rape never happened and I'm just a girl and he's just a guy."

"That's all you really are, when it comes down to it," said Willow in a rush. She hated seeing Buffy so conflicted. She couldn't even begin to image how hard all of this was for her.

"But were not!" Buffy exclaimed. "Sometimes, it seems like we are. But then last night...-"

"What happened last night? Did Angel do something? If he did, I'll-."

"No!" Buffy hurried to correct Willow's line of thinking. "No, Angel didn't do anything. It's me."

"What happened?" Willow asked again.

Buffy began explaining to Willow what had happened the night before, about how she'd been asleep when Angel had come home from work and how she'd gone to look for him. "He was just getting out of the hot tub. All he had on was a swimsuit. And...God!"

"That good, huh?" Willow questioned after seeing the crimson blush creep up Buffy's face.

"You have no idea," Buffy replied with a shake of her head. "Like Greek God good."

"So then what?" prodded Willow.

"I just stood there inside the kitchen, staring at him," Buffy went on. "And all these...these thoughts and feelings were running through me. About how gorgeous he was, about the water drops, about the muscles, and about what a good guy he seemed to be."

If the situation weren't so serious, Willow would have laughed. Buffy was completely smitten with Angel. She'd wondered about it before, but now she was positive. It was good for Buffy, Willow was sure. Angel would treat her right. There were still a lot of things that needed to be worked out, but maybe something good could come out of all of this.

"I felt like a teenager drooling over a guy," Buffy said, slightly disgusted by the idea. "But it was so normal. I wanted him. And then...then I remembered."

"Remembered what?" Willow was pretty sure she know, but she asked anyway.

"The rape. All the sudden it was right there in my mind, every single detail. And I freaked out." Buffy took a deep breath and thought about the night before. "Then it was like Angel wasn't even there, and all I could think about was what Cam had done to me."

"What did Angel do?"

"Nothing." Buffy shook her head. "He didn't see me." She turned to Willow, a desolate, serious expression on her face. "What if I'm never able to be close to a guy?"

"You will. Someday," Willow stated absolutely.

"But what it...what if that's what Angel wants? Expects?"

"Then he's not the right guy. But I don't think Angel is like that," Willow corrected. She thought for a moment, tried to figure out what she should say to her friend. If she had a psych degree this would be so much easier. "Angel will understand, Buffy. He knows about everything you've been through."

"I just...I don't know if I'll ever be able to be with him. Or any guy," Buffy explained dejectedly. She felt broken. A normal woman would be able to be close to a guy without freaking out. She couldn't even look at Angel in a bathing suit without wanting to run away.

Willow got up off the couch and sat down next to Buffy on the small foot stool. "You haven't known Angel that long, Buffy. And just because you're attracted to him doesn't mean you have to have sex with him. There are other ways to be intimate that don't involve sex." She took Buffy's hand, hoping to comfort her friend. "I'm not a therapist or an expert or anything, but if you're really interested in Angel then there are other ways you can be close to him. Hold his hand, watch a movie with your head on his shoulder, share a few kisses. Things like that. You have to let yourself get comfortable with him being close to you physically."

Considering the suggestions, Buffy leaned tiredly against Willow. Her friend made sense. Was she, Buffy, jumping to far ahead? She really hadn't known Angel that long, and they had only kissed once, what seemed like eons ago. Could she let herself be close to Angel in the way Willow was suggesting. Should she? It was all so confusing. And what if...

"But what if Angel wants more?" she asked the question aloud.

"He'll understand, Buffy. Talk to him. Be honest with him. If he doesn't understand, then he's not the good guy I think he is."

* * *

Angel surveyed the rooms, taking in every detail. They were actually pretty nice, something a young adult would normally enjoy if they still lived at home. There was a lot of space and privacy. The bedroom area was large, divided up into sleeping quarters and a sort of living space. He could see a bathroom to one side of the room, and then to the left of that another door he wondered if led to a mini-kitchen. Probably did. Buffy had to have had some way to feed herself. 

There wasn't a lot of furniture, but enough to be comfortable, and all of it nice quality. Yes, in any normal situation a person in their late teens would love the space. But for Buffy it hadn't been about privacy or growing up. It had been about seclusion, and a reminder of all that had gone wrong in her life. He could understand why she wouldn't want to come back here.

Turning to Spike, who like himself was also studying the rooms, Angel said, "I'm surprised Giles isn't here watching over our shoulders."

"I didn't tell him we were coming," Spike replied, a hint of malice in his voice at the mention of Buffy's father. He just couldn't hold back his anger that the man had done this to his daughter, even if he could somewhat understand the reasoning behind it.

"Then how did we get in? You had a key," Angel pointed out.

Spike shrugged. "Willow had one that Buffy had given her years ago. We weren't sure it would still work, but I guess Giles never changed the locks."

"Oh."

"I was going to ask him, but he's not my favorite person right now," Spike then went on to explain further. "He called Willow last night. Claimed he just wanted to make sure Buffy was okay, but then he started in on what we're doing, saying we were putting Buffy in danger. He thinks it's the wrong thing to do."

"Is that what you think?" Angel asked, hoping he wasn't the only one who believed he was doing what needed to be done.

"No." Taking a moment to think over the situation, Spike wandered the room. "I'm not sure if it's exactly right, or if it'll work, but hell, man, this can't go on. Buffy can't live her life in hiding, always looking over her shoulder. She didn't kill Joyce, Dawn, and Owen. And if she didn't..."

"Then someone else did."

"Right. And personally, I don't like the idea of a sadistic murderer roaming around Sunnydale," Spike muttered. "But this is more about Buffy. She deserves better than this." He waved a hand around the rooms.

"Yeah," Angel concurred. "I just hope it works."

"It's better than sitting around doing nothing." Spike poked at a stack of magazine's on Buffy's nightstand, unable to hold back a smile. They were all chick magazine's about clothes and beauty tips. Typical Buffy. She'd always been reading that crap. "So," he faced Angel. "You got that list of stuff we need to pack up?"

Angel pulled the sheet of paper out of his pocket and unfolded it. "There's not too much on here. Some clothes, stuff from her bathroom, and a few other things." At the pained look on Spike's face, Angel became confused. "What?"

"Clothes?" he repeated. Angel nodded. "Bloody hell! Does that mean we have to...to go through her underwear?"

Suddenly understanding Spike's wariness, Angel let out an equally disturbed chuckle. He didn't think Buffy had realized exactly what they'd been doing when they made out the list. He'd promised to get the stuff though. "Let's just get this over with."

"As long as I don't have to look for tampons or anything like that," Spike mumbled as he went toward the closet.

* * *

An hour and a half later, Angel and Spike were walking up the steps of his back porch, lugging two suitcases with them. Spike smiled as he saw Willow standing on the deck, using a hose to water some of the planter boxes along the edge of the deck. He couldn't help but think how pretty she looked.

"Hey guys," she greeted them, lifting her head for a kiss from her fiance. "I hope you don't mind, Angel. Your plants looked thirsty."

"No problem. I usually forget to water them."

"Did you have any trouble?" she asked, shutting off the hose.

"No," Spike shook his head, then said under his breath. "But it would have been easier if you were there. We had to-to pick out bras and stuff."

"Aww, poor baby," she patted his cheek. "It's not like you've never seen underwear before."

"Mmm, I certainly have. Especially those pretty green, lacy ones you wear," he shot back suggestively before leaning down to kiss her again.

Angel cleared his throat, uncomfortable about witnessing their intimate moment. They broke apart quickly, Spike grinning at him while Willow blushed. He gazed around. "Where's Buffy?"

"She's inside with the kitten. She wanted to come out with me, but," Willow shrugged, a certain sadness in her eyes. "With it being daylight, we didn't think it was smart for her to be outside."

"Right," Angel agreed, though he understood her sorrow at the situation.

"We were thinking of ordered Chinese for dinner," Willow blurted out suddenly, needing to break the morose mood that had descended.

"Sounds good, but let's get this stuff inside," Angel nodded to the suitcases he and Spike had brought back. The three then walked to the back door and entered the kitchen. Buffy's happy laughter greeted Angel the moment he was inside. She was seated on the tile floor, tugging a little mouse across the floor as Shadow batted at it with her paw.

Buffy looked up at the sound of the door opening and closing. "You're back."

"Yup." Angel pulled something out from under his arm. "Spike said you might want this."

Shrieking gleefully, Buffy jumped up and grabbed the item from his hand. "Mr Gordo!" She hugged the worn looking, stuffed, pink pig. "Thank you!"

"What is it with you and that pig? Spike questioned. "You'd think it was made of gold or something!"

Buffy, Willow and Spike laughed. She'd been enduring teasing over the stuffed animal ever since the day they'd gone to a local fair when they were all around eight or nine. Buffy had wanted the pig the moment she'd seen it in a game booth. All the guys, Spike, Xander, and Oz, had spent the next hour, needing to prove their manliness, trying to throw ping pong balls into small jars the required five times in order to win the pig for her. She'd been inseparable from the toy ever since.

Their reminiscent laughter caused Angel to feel a little left out. He didn't know what the story was behind the pig, but if it made Buffy so happy, then that was all that mattered. He'd buy her a thousand stuffed pigs if they would keep that smile on her face.

* * *

Later that night, after Willow and Spike had gone home, Buffy sat on the steps in front of Angel's house. It was almost pitch black out as there was only a small sliver of moon visible in the sky. The darkness didn't bother her, though. She'd been living in it for so long that it seemed normal. And she enjoyed the beach at night. The sound of the waves was so comforting. 

The advice Willow had given her earlier was still circling around in her head. Could this situation possibly be anymore confusing and complicated? She didn't know how to act around a guy anymore, at least not in a friend-sense. And she certainly didn't know how to be around one without being overwhelmed by past memories.

What she did know was that she liked Angel. In more than a friendly way, given the thoughts that had entered her mind the night before when she'd seen him practically naked. He was nice, and gentle, and kind. And he treated her like a normal person, not like some freak. There was just so much about him to like.

So what was she supposed to do about it? She knew for certain that she couldn't yet handle anything serious. She still felt too raw. Was Willow right, though? Should she pursue casual closeness with him? The idea was...nice. She liked the thought of holding Angel's hand, or sitting next to him while watching a movie. She thought maybe she could try that. But she didn't know if Angel would be okay with that.

Angel was a few years older than her. He had to have been involved in relationships before. A man that looked that good had to have women chasing after him. He'd probably been with numerous women. What if he expected sex from her? What if he turned her away when she told him she wasn't ready to even consider it?

A little voice in her head told her Angel wasn't like that. But still she worried. And she knew she would keep worrying until she did something about the situation. She would have to do as Willow suggested. She'd have to talk to Angel, make sure he understood her feelings. Then, well, she'd just have to see how he reacted.

As if on cue, she heard the door behind her open and felt Angel's presence. Now or never, she told herself.

* * *

TBC 


	24. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23

* * *

**

Buffy and Angel sat on the stairs under the night sky. Neither spoke. Angel was wondering what was on Buffy's mind. She was so quiet and pensive. Something was obviously bothering her. He hoped it was nothing bad.

Next to him, Buffy was trying to figure out how to start the conversation she needed to have with Angel. She still wasn't sure she had the guts to talk to him about what was between them and what she could not let happen. What if she said something about it to him, and he told her that he only thought of her as a friend? Then she would feel like a complete and utter fool. Was she misreading any feelings he may have?

Well, she'd never know unless she talked to him instead of sitting her like a total moron. And she certainly wouldn't be comfortable until her own feelings were out in the open and he understood her stance. Which brought her back to the original issue. How in the world should she start this talk?

She thought about it for a few more minutes. Should she just blurt it out? Should she lead into it? Should she hope he brings it up himself? Or should she just chicken out? No. She couldn't ignore the problem. It would not go away if she did.

Okay, she could do this. And then it came to her. What she should say.

"Angel? Can...can I ask you a question?" she forced herself to ask first.

Tilting his head to look casually at Buffy, Angel bit back a sigh of relief over the fact that she seemed finally ready to talk about whatever was bothering her. "Sure."

Buffy chewed on her lower lip, as her nerve seemed to abandon her. But she took a deep breath and let the words out in a rush. "Why did you kiss me that night?"

That really hadn't been the question he'd expected. Really not. He opened his mouth to reply, but quickly snapped it shut again. How in the hell was he supposed to answer a question like that?

Sensing his discomfort, Buffy turned her face away. "That's okay, you don't have to tell me."

"No!" Angel swiftly corrected. "It's not that. I was just...surprised." His brows lowered in thought. Man, how'd he end up in this situation? "It's just...honestly, I don't know how to answer you."

Buffy wanted to bang her head on the railing next to her. She'd been hoping his response would let her lead him into what she needed to say to him. But he wasn't cooperating. It looked like she was going to have to be more clear.

Snapping her spine straighter, she made sure to face him fully before speaking again. "Okay. Most times when a guy kisses a girl like that they're...interested." She sucked in a deep breath, the plunged ahead. "What I'm asking is, did you kiss me because you are, umm, interested, or was it just some...thing...that you did?"

If he hadn't been shocked by Buffy's line of thought before, he definitely was now. When she decided to ask questions, they were doozies. He pushed aside the shock, though, and focused back on what she was asking him about. Buffy wanted to know if he was interested in her as a female Romantically, he assumed. Why in the world did she want to know, and how the hell was he supposed to answer?

Angel's thoughts drifted back to the night before when he'd known Buffy had been watching him from the back door. After he'd come inside, she'd been quiet and acting a bit off. She'd remained that way most of the time he'd been around her today. What had happened the night before to concern her, and then lead to her query?

He'd been relaxing in the hot tub, then he'd gotten out and dried himself off. And Buffy had been watching. His eyes flicked down at his body. A narcissist he wasn't, but Angel knew females found him attractive and liked his body. He'd only been wearing a pair of swim trunks the night before. While Buffy had been watching. Was that what this was about? Had something about that bothered her? Regardless, he needed to answer her. Soon, before she thought he was ignoring her.

How to answer still stumped Angel, though. In the end, he decided to blunt, just as she had been in asking him. "Yes. I'm...interested."

"Oh," she said so quietly he almost couldn't hear.

Buffy wasn't sure how he'd answer. None of her predictions, though, could have prepared her for knowing that Angel had a genuine attraction to her, outside of just friendship. It was scary and amazing at the same time. Part of her felt warm and wanted, while another part of her mind whispered to her that she should run, and run fast.

When Buffy didn't say anything, only stared at her feet, Angel felt the need to explain himself. "I think you're an amazing woman, Buffy. Beautiful on the inside as well as the outside. I enjoy sitting and talking with you, or just watching the waves on the beach in silence. You're funny, and smart. There's nothing I don't like about you."

"Oh," Buffy said again, this time it was more of a breathy sigh. She wondered if she was blushing, and hoped that if she was, that he couldn't see it. No one had every said such lovely things to her before.

"If there wasn't so much going on with everything...I would ask you out on a date. I'd take you out to dinner at a nice restaurant, then a movie or do something else you like afterwards, and then a walk on the beach," he continued, the words just spilling out. He managed to catch himself, though, before he frightened her off. Or at least he hoped he did.

For a moment, Buffy wanted to throw her arms around his neck and say Yes! she'd go out with him! Logic prevailed. Or did it? Going to dinner and a movie would be normal. It didn't mean anything had to happen. Willow had suggested to her that starting slow might help, might make her more comfortable. Could she really go on a date with Angel?

Before she could consider that idea more, reality intruded. There was no possible way she could go out with Angel. And not because of her fears, either. She was an accused murderer, and believed dead. She couldn't go anywhere at all.

The sadness that she had been fighting off for days over the fact that she was trapped no matter where she was – in her attic rooms, or here at Angel's – crept back up inside her. Even if she thought she could handle a casual date with Angel, it was impossible.

"What are you thinking about?" Angel requested, breaking into her silent debate.

"That I wished I was normal."

Angel lifted his hand and tilted her head upwards gently. "You are normal."

"No," she disagreed with a shake of her head. "I'm not. There's nothing normal about me." Buffy stood and paced a few feet away on the sand. "I can't go out on a date, Angel. People think I'm dead and that I killed my family! How is that normal? And even if that wasn't a problem, there's still..."

"Still what?" he asked when she hesitated in finishing.

"There's still the rape." Her words came out in a harsh, tired whisper, so full of pain and loathing that it nearly broke Angel's heart. Buffy turned away from his kind eyes and faced the dark ocean. She couldn't look at him for the rest of what she had to say.

"I am attracted to you, Angel. You're fun to be around and to talk to. You treat me like I'm a regular person. Ever since I first talked to you on the beach that night, I've felt comfortable around you, and that's not something I've felt around a guy in a long time." She wrapped her arms around her chest, warding off a coldness that had little to do with the cool ocean breeze. "I watched you last night, and for just a few seconds, everything in the past just...didn't exist, and I was just a girl who wanted to be close to you. But then the memories of that day, of what Cameron did to me, just crashed all around me, and then the thought of being touched by you, or anyone, makes my skin crawl."

Finally, she rotated to look at Angel again, hoping beyond hope that he would understand. "I am interested, Angel. I want you to know that. I just don't think I could ever be what you want. I don't know if I could ever...ever...you know...with you."

Angel felt an irrational anger with himself. Somehow, he'd made her feel uncomfortable, that he wanted something from her. He hadn't meant to do that at all. He wasn't sure what he'd done to make her feel this way, but he regretted it nonetheless.

He stood and walked toward her, stopping a foot in front of her. He didn't dare touch her, for fear of scaring her further. All he wanted to do was alleviate her fears.

"I'd never ask you to do something you weren't comfortable with, Buffy," he told her. "And I'm sorry if I've given you that impression."

"No!" Buffy quickly cut in. "It's not anything you've done, Angel. It's me. For the first time since...since the rape, I have all these feelings inside me. It's so confusing, and it scares me."

Taking a risk, Angel lifted a hand to her cheek and lightly touched her soft skin. She didn't flinch, and for that he was grateful. "I can understand that this must be very hard for you given everything that's happened. But I meant what I said. I'd never ask anything of you that you weren't completely willing to give. First and foremost, I'm your friend, and if that's all we ever are, then that's perfectly fine. If someday we're more, then I promise to you I'd never hurt you."

Buffy's eyes fluttered closed, relief surging through her. He wasn't turning her away. Though she hated herself for it, she couldn't stop the few tears that slipped out from beneath her eyelids. "I thought that if I didn't...that...that you wouldn't want me here."

"I'd never do that to you," he swore. "Anything that may or may not happen between us is completely up to you. But I won't ever stop being your friend."

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Can I...," he caught himself, wondering if he should ask. "Can I give you a hug?"

"I'd like that," she accepted.

Angel wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, but made sure not to hold her too tightly. When she snaked her arms around his middle, he sighed and rested cheek on the top of her head. He could feel her light sobs, but said nothing. Even after seven years, she was still dealing with the burden of her rape. But then, she'd never really been given the chance to recover normally, not with everything that had happened afterward. He promised himself, then and there, that he would do anything to help her move on with her life. And if being her friend was all he could be, then he would accept that.

* * *

Very early the next morning, Angel was rudely dragged out of sleep by a loud pounding. He dragged a hand through his tousled hair, trying to clear the fog from his head. He'd been having a rather interesting dream about the beach at midnight, a soft blanket, a bottle of wine, and Buffy. And there hadn't been a thing sexual about it. It had just been them, enjoying the warm summer's night while simply being with each other. Angel supposed it was the result of the talk they'd had the night before. Whatever the cause, he'd enjoyed the dream.

Just as Angel was about to let himself drift back into his dreamland, the pounding sounded again. He shook his head. Who the hell was pounding? The construction guys had finished up work on his house a week or so ago. So where was the noise coming from? He heard it again, this time with a clearer head. The door. Someone was pounding on his door.

Angel shot out of bed, suddenly tense. His eyes darted to his alarm clock. It was just past six-thirty in the morning. There shouldn't be anyone at his door. He dashed out of the room, not caring that he was only wearing a pair of boxer shorts.

In the hallway, he came face to face with Buffy. By her expression, he realized that she too had realized early morning guests were not of the norm for him. They both had a right to worry, given the way things were.

Walking up to her, he stopped and took her hand. "Stay up here and don't make any noise, okay?"

She nodded in response, her throat too constricted to allow her to verbally answer.

Without thinking, he kissed her forehead lightly. "Everything will be fine." He released her hand and started down the stairs, hoping he hadn't just lied to her.

Once on the first floor, Angel strode to the door and poked aside one of the curtains of the window to the right. He frowned at what he saw and quickly opened the door. "Gunn? Why the hell are you pounding on my door so damn early? And why are you here in the first place?"

Gunn, a man of medium stature, dark skin, and a completely shaved head, pushed his way past Angel and into the house. "We need to talk," he stated once he was inside.

Angel's eyes flicked to the second floor where Buffy was hiding and then back to his sister's boyfriend, and the man he hoped would be able to clear Buffy's name. There was only one reason Gunn would be at his house this early, and that was the information Angel had faxed him. Obviously, Gunn had something to say about it all. Angel hoped it was nothing bad. Gunn was his only hope.

"All right," Angel agreed, his voice serious. He nodded to the right and led Gunn into the living room. Deciding against sitting, Angel stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed over his wide chest. "So what's up?"

"First off, where did you get all this information?" Gunn asked as he pulled a folder out of the soft leather bag hanging from his shoulder and waved it in front of Angel's face.

"I printed it out from online news archives," answered Angel, though he knew Gunn wasn't referring to the news articles.

"Don't play with me, Angel," he ordered gravely. "I'm talking about the police files. Where did you get access to them?"

Angel sighed and walked to the window. He stared out at the early morning sky, still showing tints of pink and red, before replying. "A...friend...was able to get them for me. That's all I can tell you right now."

"Okay," Gunn gave a terse nod. "Second question: Why did you want the information in the first place?"

Now that was a tricky question, Angel thought. He couldn't answer with the truth. That would have meant revealing Buffy's existence, and he wasn't sure what Gunn would do with that information. He'd just have to improvise.

"I heard some stories about some things that happened here, and I decided to check it out." Angel grimaced in his head. That was pretty damn lame.

"Uh huh," Gunn grunted. "I hope you know I don't believe that for a second. But I'll let it go for now."

Strolling over to the coffee table, Gunn dropped the file down, stared at it for a few seconds, then looked back at his friend. Well, they were sort of friends. He was dating Angel's sister and they got along pretty good. They weren't all that close. Gunn hoped that Angel trusted him enough with whatever was going on, because he was sure there was more to this story than Angel was telling him.

"Interesting reading," Gunn finally said. "I can see why you wanted me to look over all of it."

Angel said nothing. He wanted Gunn's unbiased thoughts on the events that had happened over the last seven year's in Sunnydale that involved Buffy.

"I read each and every word in there." Gunn poked at the file. "And it's a complete load of crap." At Angel's lifted eyebrow, Gunn shook his head. "And I'm guessing you already figured that out. Anybody with half a clue about law and crime scenes would know there's hardly an ounce of truth in any of those papers."

"Hmm," was Angel's only response.

"But we'll push that aside for a minute." Gunn wandered the room, taking in the pictures on the wall. He stopped at the picture Angel had on the mantle of Fred and smiled, but quickly refocused his thoughts on what was important. "There was a name mentioned in there that rang a bell. I couldn't remember where I'd heard it before so I did some quiet digging."

Gunn went back to the file on the table and pulled out a stapled stack of papers. "Mayor Richard Wilkins III. Seems like he plays a staring role in this little undercover investigation of yours. I thought you might find it interesting that for the last year, he's been under a very hush-hush federal investigation as well."

Angel jumped to attention, completely stunned. "What!"

"I'm trusting you keep this to yourself." Angel nodded his acquiescence. "About a year ago, we brought in a guy for questioning for something in LA. When he realized we could throw him in jail, he offered up some information for a deal. That info led us back to Wilkins, and since then, we've been working on a case for a range of crimes including fraud, conspiracy, blackmail, and an assortment of other charges."

"Shit," Angel muttered. He hadn't been expecting all this. Not in the least. He'd known Wilkins was dirty. He'd helped Cameron and his family cover up the rape and likely played a roll in the murders. This was so much bigger than he'd thought. But it was also a shining ray of hope. Clearing Buffy was looking a lot better.

"I need to know what's going on, Angel. All of it," Gunn requested solemnly.

Before Angel could answer, a soft crash sounded from upstairs. Alarm showed in Angel's eyes but he quickly hid it. He couldn't let Gunn know about Buffy. Not yet. Not until he was sure she would be safe.

"What was that?" Gunn asked suspiciously.

Angel thought swiftly. "Probably my cat."

"Cat? You have a cat?"

"A kitten," Angel explained, moving towards the stairs. "Let me go check and make sure she hasn't gotten into trouble." With that, he climbed the stairs two at a time before Gunn could say anything more.

Upstairs, Angel first went to his bedroom and grabbed a t-shirt, realizing consciously for the first time that he was practically naked. He went toward the guest room that was Buffy's as he pulled the thin white shirt over his head. From the doorway, he could see what had caused the noise. Shadow was sitting on the bedside table, innocently licking a paw while below her, Buffy was kneeling on the floor gathering up a small stack of books. He couldn't help the light chuckle that escaped his lips.

Buffy looked up frantically, her expression that of a deer caught in headlights. "I'm sorry," she blurted out. "She just jumped up there and knocked them over."

"It's okay," Angel assured her as he knelt to help clean up. "I told Gunn it was probably the cat. Lucky guess on my part."

"Gunn?" Buffy zeroed in on that one detail. "The cop guy? He's here?"

"Yeah, he had some interesting information to fill me in on," Angel explained as he picked up the stack of books, stood and then placed them on the dresser where the kitten hopefully wouldn't be able to get to them as easily.

"You didn't tell him-"

Angel saw the stricken look on her face and cut in. "No. He doesn't know. I wouldn't do anything to put you in danger. I promise."

As they stared at each other, a sudden noise jerked both their eyes toward the doorway. Angel cursed under his breath at being some utterly stupid. He moved immediately to Buffy's side, not failing to notice that she'd pressed her back against the wall and was trembling. Damnit. This wasn't going the way he'd hoped.

"Looks like my instincts were right," Gunn said from where he leaned casually against the doorjam. His eyes zoomed right in on the blonde-headed female tucked against Angel's side. "You must be Buffy Giles. I've been reading a lot about you."

* * *

TBC 


	25. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24

* * *

**

A mouse could have sneezed and been heard in the deafening silence that had encompassed the room after Gunn's announcement that he knew who the woman was standing next to Angel. On one side of the room, Gunn stood, eagerly anticipating the next chapter of the extremely interesting case that had fallen into this lap. And on the other side of the room, Angel was kicking himself for being so stupid and careless. He was supposed to be protecting Buffy. Letting his FBI agent friend find out she was alive, and not dead as reported, didn't qualify as protecting. He just had to hope that Gunn gave him a chance to explain and plead his case before deciding to haul Buffy in because she was an accused murderer.

Next to Angel, Buffy was completely frozen. She knew the man was Angel's friend, the one he'd contacted to help her. Angel had told her that once his friend knew the whole story, he'd help her. But she was now petrified that he wouldn't believe her story. What if he took her away? What if he put her in jail? She didn't want to leave Angel. She didn't want to go to jail. Shrinking back further in fear, she curled against Angel's side.

Resigned, Angel rubbed at his forehead. He could lie and say Buffy was someone else, but Gunn was a smart guy. There was no way he would buy that, especially considering there were pictures of Buffy in the file he'd sent to Gunn. And judging by Gunn's words moments ago, his friend had his suspicions about Buffy's dead status. It seemed he had no choice now but to fill Gunn in on everything and hope Gunn believed him and kept Buffy's existence secret for now.

Turning to Buffy, he looked into her eyes and held her hand tightly. "He would have found out sooner or later," he told her softly. Her eyes held his, then darted to Gunn and back. Angel could tell she was worried about what would happen now. "I promise I'll do everything that I can to keep you safe." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead before facing Gunn again.

"Well?" Gunn asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Yes, this is Buffy," Angel answered after moment, sighing heavily.

Gunn got an 'I-thought-so' look on his face as his suspicions were confirmed. He waited expectantly for Angel to tell him more.

"Why don't we go downstairs and sit down?" suggested Angel. They'd be more comfortable down there, and it would give him some time to decide how to handle this. Gunn nodded and left the room, his footsteps on the stairs soon reaching Angel's ears. Now alone, Angel looked at Buffy again. "Are you okay?"

She shook her head no, still clinging to Angel's hand. "What if he doesn't believe us? What if he thinks I killed them? I don't want to go to jail, Angel!"

"You won't," Angel promised, hoping it was the truth. He was pretty sure Gunn would see the real truth behind what had happened to Buffy and her family, but he couldn't say that with one-hundred percent certainty. But one thing he was positive about, he would not let Buffy go to jail. He'd do whatever possible to protect her. "The only thing we can do right now is go down there and tell him everything. Once he knows the whole story, he'll see what I did, that you didn't hurt anybody, that you were the victim in all this. And when he knows that, he'll be able to help you." At least Angel hoped so.

Buffy still looked unsure, so Angel grasped her other hand, and held it in his, warming the cold, clammy skin. "I know you're scared, but talking to Gunn is the only way you may be able to ever put all of this behind you."

And that was the unfortunate reality of the situation, Buffy realized. If she wanted to have the truth come out, if she wanted to have a life again, she had to step out on a limb and put her future in the hands of someone else. She needed Gunn's help, his belief in her innocence, if she wanted to be free of her past. Everything hinged on his support.

Well, Buffy took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders, she would just have to make sure he believed her. "I'm ready," she said to Angel.

He smiled and squeezed her hands. This wasn't easy for her, Angel knew, but he also knew she realized the importance of talking to Gunn. He'd seen the change in her eyes, from stark fear to acceptance to determination. Her courage awed him. She was prepared to face whatever was to come. And he would be right there by her side.

Within moments, both Angel and Buffy had joined Gunn down in the living room. Gunn was seated in one of the chairs so Angel led Buffy to the couch and sat down next to her. He could feel the tension in Buffy's body, but she was holding on. The best he could do for her now was to get everything out for Gunn to hear so they would know whether his friend believed them and could help.

Angel leaned forward and picked up the file of papers Gunn had brought, the one that contained the printouts of all the information Angel had faxed him. "There's a lot that's not in these papers," he started off by saying.

"Yeah," Gunn nodded. "I kinda got that feeling. So why don't you fill me in on the rest."

So Angel did. He relayed to Gunn every single thing he'd learned since he got involved with Buffy and her past. Starting from the beginning, he told of the ghost stories, what he'd seen, meeting Willow and Spike and all they'd told him. Then he moved on to realizing Buffy was alive and how they'd come to meet. From there, he explained all he'd learned from Buffy herself, and about his own research that led to the conclusion that Buffy had been set up.

All the while, Gunn listened stoically, taking in each and every word Angel said. Near the beginning, he'd pulled out a notepad and occasionally jotted down some notes for personal reference. He never interrupted once with questions, only listened.

Buffy remained silent as well, allowing Angel to tell the story of her life. It was strange, she thought, hearing about the things she'd been through being told in such a factual, detached monologue. She'd lived through it all, but hearing it told this way was just...odd. She had to admit it all sounded so fantastical, like a twisted Hollywood plot. Only, this hadn't come from some writer's mind. It had all happened. To her.

When Angel finished, Gunn set down his pen and thought for several long, drawn out seconds. Finally, he raised his eyes to Buffy. "Anything you want to add to all that?" he asked her.

The first words that came to mind were what Buffy said. "I didn't kill my family."

Gunn stared straight at her, saying nothing for a moment. Finally, he gave her a small smile. "I believe you."

Buffy's mouth dropped open in shock. He believed her? It was that simple? She'd thought he would question her, try to tear her story apart and call her a killer. But he wasn't doing anything like that. She had a sudden urge to throw herself on him and say thank you, but she was too frozen to do anything.

Instead, Angel voiced the same thoughts Buffy had. "You believe her, just like that?" Not that he wasn't grateful Gunn seemed to accept the whole story, but he couldn't help but be weary at such a quick announcement.

"Honestly, it was pretty clear from the information you sent me. None of the evidence adds up to what the cops here said it did, and I went over it all thoroughly." Gunn leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. "They tried to say this was a crime of rage, Buffy's rage, and her instability. But the crime scene doesn't match that. It was all too pretty, too controlled. That's not normal."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. There should have been signs of struggle, but it was like they were laid out," Angel pondered aloud.

"Exactly. That reeks of a professional, not some girl gone crazy." Gunn winced and looked apologetically at Buffy. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way."

"It's okay," Buffy said softly, though she was a bit jarred from hearing his blunt words.

Gunn gave a short nod and went back to his conclusions. "Then there was the fact that not a trace of her blood was apparently found at the scene. That's unusual. If she'd been having some sort of episode and lashed out like that, she would have likely hurt herself accidentally and bled in the room, but only the victims' blood was found."

"I hadn't considered that," Angel mumbled.

"And the note," Gunn went on. "I'm not an expert, but I know a little, and to me it looks like it was written by someone who is left-handed. Only about ten-percent of the population are left-handed. Which are you, Buffy?"

"I, umm, I'm right-handed."

"That's what I figured," he said knowingly. "But all that is mostly circumstantial stuff. This is the kicker. There's a report in the police files that blows the whole thing wide open. I can't imagine how they managed to keep it under wraps."

"What report?" Angel asked sharply. If there was something that proved Buffy's innocence, he wanted to know.

"It's from the medical examiner, reports on the...," Gunn glanced at Buffy, "the umm, bodies. The ME did a tox screen which at first appears to be normal to a layman, but if you take a closer look, there was a chemical present in all three victims." Gunn was silent for a minute, allowing the news to sink in before he gave the final piece. "It was a little known drug that, in essence, knocks a person out."

"Good God!" Angel exclaimed, leaping off the couch. "That's how they did it!" He paced around the room, speaking more to himself than to either Buffy or Gunn. "They put the drug in the ice cream, and then when everyone was out, they snuck in and set up the perfect murder where Buffy would take the fall."

"The ice cream," Buffy whispered. Her eye-lids fluttered closed before she opened them and gazed at Angel through tear-filled eyes. "That night...I-I remember Mom bringing in ice cream. It was mint chocolate chip. We never had that kind. We always had the cookie dough, or plain vanilla. I remember Dawn asking who picked out the mint kind and Mom said she thought Dad had. But he didn't, did he"

"I don't think so," Gunn responded gently, he could see the young woman was completely thrown by this new information. "It looks like they drugged the ice cream and put it in your freezer. No one thinks much about mysterious food appearing in their fridge. So no one would have really thought it odd."

Buffy was still somewhat lost in her memories of that night. She tried to sort through it all, tried to remember anything she could have forgotten. Nothing came to her, though. Her memories were still the same. "We started eating the ice cream and watching the movies, and then it's like a big hole in my mind until Daddy found me in the closet, and even that I don't remember much of."

"That makes sense," Gunn said thoughtfully. "The drug works fairly quickly. You'd just be sitting there eating and having a good time and then you'd nod off. I have a question, though. How would someone know to drug ice cream, and to be at your house that night?"

Blinking, Buffy looked at Gunn, trying to understand what he wanted to know. Her brow furrowed in concentration. "It was a Friday night," she remembered. "We always had family night then. We'd watch movies together, and munch on ice cream and snacks."

"And other people knew this?" Gunn prodded.

"I...I think so. Probably. We'd done it for a few years. My father always made sure he didn't have to stay late at work and would be home on time...," she trailed off, her lips quivering as a new thought occurred to her.

Angel, too, came to the same conclusion. "And that Friday Giles was suddenly held up late at work."

Gunn tapped a finger on his notepad and considered the recent factual additions. "They would have needed somebody to discover the murders. If you'd all been home, who knows when someone would have come in looking for you." He thought some more. "So they managed to hold up Mr. Giles at work until the job was done, and then he came home to find it all."

Grabbing to ease the tension at the back of his neck, Angel found himself disgusted at the lengths these people had gone to destroy Buffy and her family. What kind of people were they? Obviously, not good ones. He glanced at Buffy to see how she was doing and saw that she was sitting perfectly still on the couch, a few tears trailing down her cheeks. Damn. He knew this was going to be too hard on her.

He stalked over to the couch and kneeled down in front of her. "We can take a break if you want."

Buffy released the breath she hadn't been aware had been caught in her throat. It wasn't easy to stay clinical about something like this that you'd lived through. Still, she knew she had to do it. She was tired of living the way she was. If she wanted to have a life, a real life, she needed to deal with the past. "No," she said, not as firmly as she'd hoped to. "I'm okay. We need to do this."

There was one question lingering in her mind, one thing she couldn't seem to stop wondering about. "Why didn't they just kill me? Why kill my family and leave me there?" She couldn't help but want to know the answer to that question. Wouldn't it have been the ultimate revenge to them if they just killed her?

"I can't say for sure," Gunn began. "But my guess is they wanted you to pay for accusing the police chief's son of rape and causing trouble. These kinds of people see themselves as all-powerful gods. You tried to take away some of that power and that just wasn't acceptable to them. If they'd killed you, you wouldn't have suffered. So they set you up for murder. They probably had been planning it for a while. From what you've told me, a lot of things happened to make you seem unstable. They could have been facilitating that to aid in their big plan. When they killed your family, they planned for you to take the fall and spend the rest of your life in jail or some state-run psych ward."

"But Giles threw a big monkey-wrench in their plan by hiding Buffy," Angel continued.

"Yeah, and made it seem like she'd killed herself. I can't imagine that Walker and his good buddy the mayor were too happy about that, but then again, they may have found it poetic that it seemed as though Buffy woke up from the drugged sleep, saw what happened, and decided to throw herself off the cliff," Gunn posed. The whole thing was disturbing, but in his years working in law enforcement, he'd seen some pretty ugly stuff.

"How can people do things like this? How can they get away with it?" Buffy wanted to know, her hands shaking. She wanted to ask why her, but she already knew the answer to that. She'd accused Cameron of rape, and for that, they believed she needed to pay. Her entire life, and her family's life, had been ruined because of what had happened with Cameron. If only she hadn't gone to the swim meet that day...

"Power and money can often get people whatever they want," Gunn answered, his voice tired. It was a common finding in his work. "Chief Walker and Mayor Wilkins go back a long way, and between them, they've got a lot of money and a lot of power. Push the right buttons, offer the right dollar amount, and people tend to do whatever they want. They got the rape pushed aside and then did everything they could to tear you down. With the murders, well if they've got the right people under their thumb, and I'm guessing they do from what I've seen, it would only take a few well-placed pushes to keep information from being found out, like what's on those autopsy reports."

Dropping down onto the couch, Angel put and arm around Buffy, hoping to offer her whatever comfort possibly. "You hear about shit like this, but you never think that it really happens in real life."

"The world can be a pretty ugly place," Gunn commiserated. "It's just that most times, the average person doesn't know about it."

Beside Angel, Buffy was doing her best to keep her emotions below the surface. She didn't quite know what she was feeling. There was one part of her that was chilled to the bone over the details of what had happened the night of her family's murders. Gunn had spoken so clinically about that night, and she knew that was just part of his job, but it still cut deep. To hear about how they'd been murdered, well, it was difficult not to curl herself into a ball and cry. Her mind flashed back to finding herself sitting on the couch while the movie credits rolled, and then the horrifying moments when she saw her Mom, brother and sister laid out like a nightmarish painting. A shudder worked through her over the images of blood and blindly staring eyes that were forever etched in her mind. She pushed the mental pictures away, unable to face them. She didn't think she ever would be.

Alongside the gut-wrenching sadness over her memories of that night was an almost equal feeling of guilt and responsibility. This had all happened because of her, because of what had happened with Cameron. If she'd done something, anything, different, none of this would have happened. If she'd just gone straight to helping Spike in the library instead of going to the swim meet, if she'd not gone with Cam while there, if she'd not named him as her attacker, her family would still be alive. If. If. If. So many things she could have done differently to keep her family safe. But she hadn't, and they had been killed because of her. Was that why her father kept her locked away? Did he blame her, as he should?

"Buffy?"

The calling of her name jarred her from her descent into self-recriminations, but her thoughts were still swirling. She couldn't get away from the fact that she'd brought so much pain to the people she loved most.

"Are you okay?" someone asked her. She wasn't sure who, the voice sounded too far away.

"This is all my fault," she mumbled, barely heard to the two who were staring at her, concern in their eyes. Buffy blinked, her eyes focusing on Angel as he slipped off the couch to kneel in front of her. "They would still be alive if it weren't for me."

"No, Buffy, none of this was your fault," Angel said, reaching up to gently touch her face, to keep her from turning her eyes away from his. "You didn't ask for what Cameron Walker did to you, or for what happened after. Cameron, the police, the mayor, and practically everyone in this town are to blame for what they did to you. They killed your family. There's nothing you could have done to stop it."

"But I was the one who started it," she cried, no longer able to keep her tears held inside.

"No, you didn't. Cameron started it. He raped you, attacked you. He's the one to blame, him and his family and friends," Angel stated vehemently, all the while wishing he could do something to ease her pain. There wasn't anything he could do, though. Buffy would forever live with the hurt and the what-ifs of what had happened to her.

"I miss them, Angel," she weeped, allowing herself to curl into Angel's arms as he held them out to her. "I miss my Mom, and Dawn, and Owen. Why did they have to die?"

Angel didn't have an answer to that, however much he wished that he did. So instead he held Buffy in his arms, soothing her with his touch and simple words of comfort. It was all he could do, at least for now. He would hold her as she cried, help her to expunge some of pain that she still held inside.

With a quick look at Gunn, Angel scooped Buffy up and stood. She couldn't handle anymore talk today about the past. There was only so much a person could handle. He'd take her upstairs and settle her into her bed before finishing up with Gunn. Then he would try to figure out a way to take her mind off things, if only for a little while.

By the time Angel had deposited Buffy on the guest bed, she had already fallen into an exhausted, tear-stained slumber. He pulled the covers around her and then picked up Shadow, who was staring up at him, and set her down next to Buffy. The kitten promptly curled up next to her, but kept her eyes open, as if assigning herself Buffy's guardian. Angel patted the kitten lightly, then made himself go back downstairs to where Gunn was waiting.

His friend was standing in the foyer when Angel returned. "Is she okay?" he asked Angel.

"Not really. I don't know how she managed to survive this long with the load she's got on her shoulders," Angel sighed sadly, his eyes drifting to the stairs, towards Buffy.

"She's a strong woman, Angel. If she's made it this far, she'll make it the rest of the way." Gunn laid a hand on Angel's shoulder, offering support. "Listen, I'm going to have to bring in a team to investigate this."

The statement didn't come as a complete surprise to Angel, but still it made him cringe. The more people that know, the more danger Buffy would be in. There were no guarantees that others in the FBI would see things as he did, as Gunn apparently did. "I suppose that's necessary?"

"I don't have a choice. This is big. If we have any hope of bringing in those responsible, it's going to require a full scale investigation, not just me confirming you're suspicions," Gunn affirmed.

"What if they want to take Buffy in. She is a suspected murder," Angel pointed out.

"They'll see the truth, just as I did," Gunn retorted. "Trust me, Angel. I'll do whatever I can to make sure Buffy's safe. I can tell she means a lot to you." And wouldn't that be an interesting thing to tell Fred, he thought silently.

"I just don't want to see her hurt anymore."

"I can't make promises. I wish I could, but I'll do whatever I can to make this as easy as possible on her," Gunn assured his friend.

"What happens now?" Angel asked, prying his thoughts away from Buffy, who he hoped was still asleep upstairs.

"I'm headed back to LA. Hopefully, I can gather the team that is already investigating Wilkins today." Gunn mentally made a list of what he'd have to do once back in his office. "I'm going to make copies of everything you gave me and then give them to the team. I'll be able to judge their reactions better that way before I tell them the rest."

"I won't let her be taken to jail," Angel swore, deadly serious.

"It won't come to that. They'll see she's a victim." Gunn prayed he wasn't lying.

"You'll call me after you talk to them?"

"First thing," promised Gunn, looking down at his watch. "I better get going."

Angel walked Gunn out and followed him to his car. He was silent as Gunn placed his bag on the back seat and opened the driver's side door. Angel's mind was once again on Buffy, on what he could do to ease some of her torment. There had to be something that would take her away from all this for a short while.

As Angel stared out at the lurching waves of the ocean, an idea began to form in his mind. He rolled the details around, trying out the possibilities. It would probably work, and it would likely be good for both of them. So he turned to Gunn as his friend pulled on his seat belt and started the car.

"Listen, I'd like to do something," Angel began, then relayed his idea to Gunn.

After listening to Angel's plan, Gunn considered it for a moment. "I can't say it's a great idea, strictly from a situational standpoint, but I can't see the harm."

"Good. She really needs this." Angel's eyes flicked to his house. Yes, she really did need it.

"Just be careful," Gunn ordered. "These people are bad to the core, Angel. They'll do whatever necessary to save their asses. So watch your back."

"Don't worry, I'll keep my eyes opened," Angel promised.

The two said their good-byes and Angel watched as the car rolled down the driveway and then out of sight. He knew Gunn would do whatever he could to see that justice was done, but Angel couldn't help worrying that something might go wrong. Buffy had already been failed by the system once. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility that it could happen again. He had to believe, though, that the cards were stacked on Buffy's side this time. The outside help would be unbiased and see the truth. He hoped.

For now, he couldn't do anything else. It was time to focus on what he wanted to do for Buffy tomorrow. Pulling out his cell phone, Angel dialed and waited while it rang. After two rings, the call was answered.

"Willow, I need a favor," he requested.

* * *

TBC 


	26. Chapter 25

_AN: I just wanted to say thank you to all of you here at "the-site-which-cannot-be-named" for all of the wonderful reviews you've been leaving! They are very much appreciated! I hope you'll like this chapter. It's a bit different than all the others :)

* * *

_

**Chapter 25

* * *

**

Angel stood in the doorway to the guest room that had become Buffy's room and smiled. Buffy was awake and lying on her back with Shadow perched on her stomach. The two seemed to be having an intense conversation with their eyes only. He wondered what they were talking about. At least there was a small smile on Buffy's face. He'd been afraid the meeting with Gunn the day before had been too much for her. This just further showed how strong she was.

Still, Angel wished that he could have done something more for her yesterday. She'd been hit hard with the frank talk of the murders, which was understandable. After Gunn had left, she'd slept the remainder of the morning and a portion of the afternoon. Throughout their early dinner, she'd stayed quiet and pensive, and then gone up to her room afterwards. He'd left her alone, knowing she'd need some time to herself. If she'd needed him, he would have been there for her, but there hadn't been a peep from her room the entire night.

Today was a new day, though, and he had plans. He was going to give Buffy something he knew she wanted but thought she couldn't have. He had everything set up in his head. This was going to be a perfect day.

"Hey," he said, taking a step into the room.

Startled at the intrusion, Buffy jumped slightly but then smiled when she saw that it was only Angel. "Hi. You're up early."

"Yeah," he nodded, giving nothing away of his idea yet. "Spending some quality time with Shadow?"

Buffy laughed and scratched the kitten's back. "We were having a staring contest." She mock-frowned at the kitten. "I lost every time."

Chuckling, Angel walked into the room and sat on the edge of the bed. He cocked his head and stared at the kitten, who eyed him back. The spur of the moment contest lasted a minute before Angel blinked. "Looks like I lose, too."

"Maybe her eyelids are glued open," Buffy mused out loud.

"Maybe," he shook his head at the odd little furball. Angel was quiet for a long thirty seconds before finally broaching the subject on his mind with Buffy. "Want to go out today? Away from the house?"

Out? A brilliant grin broke out on Buffy's face. Of course she wanted to go out! It'd been...

Her thoughts trailed off as reality set in. There was a reason she hadn't been anywhere in a really long time. For three years after the rape she'd avoided going places because of what had happened and the way people treated here, and then for the last four years she'd been secluded in the attic of her father's house. She hadn't really wanted to go anywhere during that time. Her thoughts hadn't been on having fun. But now that she was facing the world again, she'd wanted to do normal things. Angel knew that she couldn't. He knew people thought her dead and a murderer. How could he possibly suggest she could leave his house!

"You know I can't," she mumbled, disheartened at the realities of her life.

"No, not here in Sunnydale," he corrected what Buffy thought. "I want to take you up to LA. It's only a two hour drive. We could do anything you want once we got there."

A blossom of hope formed in Buffy. Go to LA? Could the really do something like that? It would be so nice to be just a girl for an afternoon and do whatever she wanted. They could go to a mall, eat in a restaurant, or just walk down a sidewalk. She'd give anything to do stuff like that. Ever since her life had taken yet another turn recently, she'd begun to crave normalcy. She wanted the freedom to do anything and everything. But...

"What if someone from here saw me? They could be in Los Angeles too," she voiced her hesitancy.

"I guess it's possible, but with all the people in LA it's not likely. Besides, I thought of that." Angel held up the bag he'd brought into the room with him. "I had Willow bring these over for me. There's a hat, and a pair of sunglasses to make your appearance less noticeable, and there's also a baggy t-shirt to be on the safe side."

Though she was starting to believe Angel's idea was possible, the need to essentially disguise herself hit Buffy hard. It was just another reminder that her life was an absolute mess. Not only couldn't she just go out anywhere in the town she'd grown up in, she had to go two hours away to the large city of Los Angeles. And even then, she had to dress herself up to make her appearance less obvious. Still, she understood the necessity of it. She'd likely be easily recognizable to certain people here in Sunnydale if they should happen to be in LA while she was there. If she was there.

"Do you really think this is a good idea?" she again stated her fears.

"Everything will be fine. Trust me?" Angel held out a hand, asking in action instead of words to put her faith in him. He just hoped he'd never let her down. It took only a few seconds before Buffy placed her hand in his. Giving her a warm smile, he tugged her off the bed. "Why don't you go shower and get ready? I'll be waiting downstairs for you."

"Okay." Buffy took the plastic bag from Angel and walked out of the room. All the while, she found herself torn over the joy of being able to go someplace, and the heartbreak over how complicated that very simple action was in her life.

* * *

They had been traveling on the highway towards Los Angeles for over fifteen minutes before Angel felt his muscles begin to relax. He hadn't expected getting Buffy safely out of Sunnydale would make him so nervous. The whole way out of town, he'd kept expecting to see a car following, or for something else, anything else, to happen. So he'd taken absolutely no chances. 

Before they left, he'd pulled his car into the garage so Buffy could get in without having to go outside. Once they were both in the car and ready to go, he had worried more. What if someone drove past them and saw him with someone in the car? There'd be no reason for one of the Mayor's or police chief's cronies to suspect it was Buffy, after all they thought she was dead, but he couldn't stop running through scenarios. To be on the safe side, he'd had Buffy lower the back of her seat as low as possible so that she wasn't visible to any car going past or following behind them. She'd done as he'd asked, but he could tell it bothered her.

To make sure no one was following him, though he could think of no reason someone would, he'd taken back roads out of Sunnydale. The less traveled, the better in his opinion. That wasn't because he wanted to limit who saw him. He'd done that because he had wanted to get on a road with no other traffic. If there were no cars in sight, then he could be reasonably sure that no one was following him. Luck was with him as they'd traveled two different roads without any cars behind them, and he hadn't seen any cars follow them up the on-ramp leading onto the highway.

Angel was taking all of that as a good sign that they made a clean getaway. "You can put your seat up now," he told Buffy who was still reclining next to him, trying to make herself as invisible as possible.

"You're sure?" she asked nervously, her hands gripping the side of the seat.

"Yeah." Angel reached over and clasped one of her hands. "Everything will be fine."

Buffy waited several long seconds before finally reaching down and grabbing the handle that would allow her to raise the seat. Slowly, her seat inclined, inch by inch. As it did so, Buffy's eyes were trained straight ahead, the world before her being revealed more and more as each second passed. She couldn't stop staring at the sights that greeted her eyes.

There wasn't anything particularly attractive about the stretch of highway. All it was, was a long slab of concrete dotted with a myriad of cars, but to Buffy it was like catching a glimpse of something rare and beautiful. The only things she'd seen for the last four years were her rooms, her house, the beach, and recently, Angel's house. Four years of the same thing day after day after day. Seeing a plain old highway with people whizzing past in cars was exciting in a way she couldn't describe. She leaned forward as far as her seat belt allowed, until her chin almost rested on the dashboard, taking in each and every little detail.

Next to her, Angel wondered what Buffy was thinking. He'd seen the emotions cross her face, amazement, wonder, and just a hint of sadness. Considering her restricted world the last few years, he could understand the reaction. She was seeing the world again for the first time in four years. Everything probably had a pretty sheen to it that otherwise wouldn't be there. He was glad that he could give her this, at least for a day.

"Glad you came?" he inquired, signaling to pass a slower vehicle.

"Yeah," she breathed out, eyes not leaving the sights around her.

Wanting to give her the most out of the experience, Angel reached for the CD he'd set in the console and popped it into the player. Willow had told him it was a band Buffy had loved years ago. From the giddy look on her face, he figured she still did. So he cranked up the volume to near ear busting level and then reached up to push the button to open the sunroof followed by the window controls. Soon, the car was flying down the highway, music blaring away, and wind blowing through their hair.

* * *

Just a little over an hour later, Angel saw the road sign he was looking for. Putting on his turn signal, he merged into the right lane. After another mile, he saw the off-ramp and signaled again, leaving the highway behind him. 

"I thought we were going to LA?" Buffy questioned, turning her head to stare at the highway that was getting farther away on their left.

"A lot of people consider this LA," he informed her. "Have you ever been to Santa Monica?"

"No."

"You'll love it. I promise." At the end of the ramp, Angel had to decide which way to go. He was pretty family with Santa Monica. Fred loved to come here and they'd visited often after she'd moved in with him years ago. There were three areas he wanted to hit. But which one first? He decided quickly since the person behind him started honking their horn.

A few minutes later, he turned onto _Lincoln Boulevard_, and then _Ocean Park Boulevard_ which he followed west toward the ocean. There was parking in that area, he knew. Once they parked, they would be able to walk to pretty much everywhere. He didn't think Buffy would mind hoofing it a bit. She'd probably enjoy the fresh air, the sights, and mostly, the freedom.

Throughout the entire drive to their destination, Buffy's eyes were glued to the window. So many people! They were everywhere. And so many places to see and go! It was more than a little intimidating. At one time, she would have shied away from such a place. Here and now, though, this was an entirely different world where she was just another person. A tourist at that. She itched to get out and do everything and anything.

After parking, Angel directed Buffy onto _Barnard Way_ towards their first stop. They walked in silence, simply allowing themselves to absorb the experience. Angel had expected Buffy to be wary, to maybe shy away from such a populated area, but she was nothing of the sort. She seemed almost awed by it all. He knew by the expression on her face that he had done the right thing. This was exactly what they needed.

Finally, they reached the southern end of _Main Street_, one of the most popular shopping districts in Santa Monica. Angel saw Buffy's eyes light up. He wanted to laugh. Take a girl shopping, and you were virtually guaranteed to be her hero. Of course, Willow had also told him that Buffy loved to shop, but he would just keep that to himself.

Before Buffy could start down the street, Angel tugged on her hand. She gazed at him to see a semi-serious look on his face. Worried that something was wrong, she abruptly stopped. A question was on the tip of her tongue when Angel spoke.

"I want you to promise me something," he requested.

"Okay."

"Anything you want while we're here, all you have to do is ask," he said softly, giving a squeeze to her hand. She'd had four years of nothing, and he found himself wanting to give her anything.

"What do you mean?" she asked, though she thought she knew. He couldn't be suggesting that, though.

"I mean, anything you see in any of these shops is yours if you want it," he clarified for her.

"But, Angel." Buffy's eyes darted to all the stores. "You can't do that. And these places don't look like they are exactly cheap."

"I can afford it, Buffy. I've never been one to spend much, and I'm hardly poor," he relayed, knowing he was making an odd request. "Please, do it for me?"

Buffy nibbled on her lower lip. She shouldn't accept what he was saying. How could she let him spend the kind of money that would be required here on her? It wasn't right. She didn't want to offend him, though. Angel seemed to really want to do this. So she nodded her head, but promised herself silently that she'd show some restraint.

* * *

An hour and a half later, they finally neared the end of _Main Street_. Angel was enjoying himself quite a bit. Grant it, shopping wasn't exactly a favored activity of his, but he really was having fun. For the most part, they had just walked and window shopped, but he had managed to get Buffy into a few stores so he could buy her some presents. Her reluctance was obvious, but eventually she had relented. It also helped that they had decided to buy gifts for her friends. Well, Angel guessed, they were also his friends now too. 

First stop had been _The Bey's Garden_ where Buffy had wanted to get Willow a set of aromatherapy lotions since her friend loved nature-y kind of stuff. On _Pier Street_, just off _Main_, Buffy had insisted they go into _Angel City Books_ because of it's name. They'd decided to get a rare book of old English poetry for Spike since he had a secret love of that kind of thing. At _Indigo Flower_, they'd picked out a more stylish hat for Buffy to wear for the day.

When they'd passed _Paris 1900_, Buffy had been mesmerized by the antique clothing and bridal gowns. Angel had to admit they'd been quite beautiful. He kept to himself the fact that he thought Buffy would have looked amazing in them.

At _Monkie/Citygirl_, Angel had coerced Buffy into trying on a pretty sundress in swirling shades of purple. The dress was a perfect match to the necklace he'd picked out for her at _Accents Jewelry Design_. The colors went nicely with the sterling silver and amethyst choker. As he'd expected, the dress had looked wonderful on Buffy, and if possible, even better when she put the necklace on. She'd done her best to convince him not to buy the dress, but he hadn't listened. He wanted her to have it. Someday, he would be able to take her out wearing the outfit.

Even though he had already purchased several things for Buffy, Angel wanted to do more. Everything she'd gotten had been more his doing. Sure, in the end, she'd had some say, but he had done the motivating. There had to be something she really wanted.

Luck seemed to be on his side once again, because out of the corner of his eye, he caught Buffy staring at a shop across the street. Her hand reached up to comb through her long hair and her teeth caught her lower lip, gnawing on it lightly. Unobtrusively, he glanced at the shop. _Ambiance_. A hair salon. Angel held back a smile. Buffy wanted to get her hair done. Given that her hair was quite long, it wasn't a large leap to guess that she hadn't had it cut in four years. Would she ask him if they could go in there though?

Buffy slid a glance at Angel. He was idly perusing the things in the window of the store next to them. Her eyes flicked back to the salon across the street. She fingered a strand of her hair. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had it cut. Well, that is if you didn't count the two times she'd taken scissors to it herself just to keep it manageable. It would be so nice to have it done by someone else.

She couldn't ask Angel to take her there, could she? He'd already bought so much today. The dress hadn't been cheap, or any of the other stuff. He hadn't had a single qualm, though. In actuality, he'd seemed more than happy to make the purchases. Even so, she didn't want to take advantage of his generosity. Then again, he had told her to ask for anything.

Debating for several more minutes, Buffy finally faced Angel. "Angel?"

"Hmm?" He tried to hide his smile. Sooner or later, he'd known she'd ask.

"Could we...could, um, we go over there," she pointed to the salon.

Angel was tempted to tease her, but she was already uneasy so he refrained. "Sure," he answered, as if the request was nothing. Taking her hand, he led her across the busy street and into the salon. "Why don't you look at the magazine's while I see if they can fit you in."

A woman with elaborately styled black hair greeted him at the front desk. He spoke quietly to her, and ten minutes later, after having slipped a few extra bills into the woman's hand to get Buffy an immediate appointment despite their busy schedule, Buffy was being led into the back to the back. The stylist also had orders to give Buffy the works. If he'd left the decision completely up to her, Buffy probably would have only gotten a cut, but he wanted her to have the works. She deserved to be pampered a bit, and other than his sister, Angel had never had the opportunity to spoil anyone before.

The hour and a half he waited doing mostly nothing should have annoyed him, but it didn't. Well, only a little, but just because he was bored. The magazines in the reception area occupied some of the time. He also made some calls to his office to do some follow-ups on some work. Thankfully, by the time he was about to get up and start pacing around, he could hear Buffy's voice drifting closer and closer as if she were walking toward the front.

Staring at the entranceway, Angel's jaw dropped when Buffy walked through. She looked absolutely amazing! Her hair had been trimmed to shoulder length with layers of different lengths added to give it some body. The blonde color was toned down just a bit and Angel thought the stylist must have also done highlights because there seemed to be variations in the color. Overall, the look was stunning. It transformed Buffy's previous girlish look and made her seem more like the young woman she really was.

"You look great," Angel managed to say after he wrapped his mind around the change.

Buffy's hand fluttered to her shortened locks. "You don't think it's too much?"

"No, I think it's perfect," he reiterated. Sensing Buffy's concern, Angel was suddenly worried that he had pushed her too much. "You don't like it?"

"No! I do. It...it's just different. I was kind of used to it being long," she quickly explained. "But I do like it."

"Good," Angel gave her a smile as he went over to the counter to pay the bill.

Once they were back outside, Angel glanced up and down the street and considered what they should do next. "Why don't we get some lunch? We've still got a lot of stuff do today, but I know I'm hungry. Are you?"

"Yeah. Where should we eat?" She remembered that they had passed a bunch of restaurants on their walk down what Angel called _Main Street_.

"We can catch the _Tide Shuttle_ and take it over to the next area and find someplace," he pondered aloud as he saw the bus coming toward them on the opposite side of the street. "Come on, we can catch that one if we hurry."

They rushed over toward the bus stop and waited as the turquoise colored bus approached. "The _Tide Shuttle_ runs on a loop around certain areas of Santa Monica," Angel relayed the information he knew, thinking Buffy would find it interesting. "The buses are electrical so they are completely non-polluting."

"Really? That's pretty cool," Buffy agreed and then followed Angel on board once the bus had stopped.

Finding an empty seat, Angel let Buffy sit on the inside so that she could be by the window. He'd seen all of this before, but she hadn't. "We're heading over to the _Third Street Promenade_," he explained. "It's sort of like _Main Street_. There are places to eat and more shops."

* * *

The _Third Street Promenade_ offered much of the same as _Main Street_ so they didn't spend much time there in the end. They had a quick lunch at _Cafe Crepe_ and wandered the walkway, browsing the windows of the shops. Only _Tower Records_ had enticed Buffy to enter. Both of them found a few CD's they wanted, and also picked out a DVD for Xander since they had gotten things for Willow and Spike. 

Before too long, they were back on the _Tide Shuttle_ headed to Angel's last planned destination of the day. Angel worried that Buffy may be getting tired. She wasn't used to so much activity, but one look at her face showed that she was clearly wide-awake. He was glad she was enjoying herself.

When the bus stopped at the next location, Angel guided Buffy off and then directed her west, towards their last stop. He saw her eyes widen instantly at the sight that greeted her. He couldn't blame her, it was quite a visual, with the carnival atmosphere of the roller coast, ferris wheel and other amusements. This had always been Fred's favorite part of Santa Monica, and if he was guessing right, Buffy would love it as well.

"Where are we?" she asked in wonder.

"The _Santa Monica Pier_," he answered as they both stood staring at the entertainment area before them. "The original pier was built in 1909, and then in 1916 _Looff's Pier_, the shorter southern part, was constructed to hold more rides along with the _Hippodrome_ building. When the _La Monica Ballroom_ was added in 1924, some of the earliest radio and TV broadcasts were hosted there."

"How do you know all this?" she gazed at him curiously.

"I like to read," he answered with a shrug, then continued to tell her more. "The city voted to tear the pier down in 1973 because it had deteriorated so much, but the people fought back and eventually a massive reconstruction and stabilization effort followed. It helped that the _Hippodrome_ and the carousel became National Historic Landmarks. So the pier stayed and now it gets somewhere around three million visitor's a year."

"Wow." Buffy grinned at Angel, anxious to go check out everything. She couldn't remember the last time she had been to an amusement park type place. That thought brought a wave a sadness. Her family had used to go to such things together. She forced the bad thoughts away. She didn't want today over shadowed by her past. Today was for fun. "Come on," she tugged on Angel's arm. "Let's go."

* * *

Hours passed in a flash as Buffy and Angel toured the pier. They rode the fully restored, antique carousel housed in the _Hippodrome_, wandered around the _Santa Monica Bay Aquarium_ where they played in the three touch tanks, and rode each and every one of the six adult rides at _Pacific Park_, Santa Monica Pier's amusement park. Angel couldn't remember a time when he'd had more fun, and Buffy hadn't stopped smiling the entire time. 

As they made their way off the _Pacific Plunge_, a nine-story tower drop, Angel swayed a little bit. He hadn't been on a ride like that in a long time and his stomach was revolting slightly. "I think I'm glad that's the last ride," he muttered to himself, but Buffy heard.

"Oh come on, Angel! That was fun!" she chirped, skipping down the exit line, completely unaffected by the vertical drop she'd just experienced.

"I'm just glad we didn't eat right before riding," he yelled after her, shaking his head. At the end of the line, he grabbed their bags back from one of the ride operators who'd been nice enough to offer to watch them. "Ready to go hit the arcade?"

"That's all we have left, right?" Buffy tried to remember all the things Angel had told her there were to do on the pier. She thought the arcade was all that remained.

"Yeah, it's right over there," he pointed in the direction of _Playland Arcade_.

Angel held open the door for Buffy as they entered and was assaulted by all the beeps and chimes of the over two-hundred plus games housed in the building. A pair of little kids, followed by two weary adults, dashed past him just inside the door. He laughed and stepped out of the way, hopping he'd survive this latest activity.

"We have to check out the prizes first," Buffy told him, already making her way to the section of the building that housed all the items a person could win by playing the games.

"Shouldn't we get some prize tickets first?" he asked, diligently following behind.

"No, silly! You should always check out what you can win before you play. That way you know what you need to win," she relayed, exasperated at Angel's apparent cluelessness.

Buffy stood at the counter and scanned the rows and rows of toys and favors that were available as prizes. A lot of them were cheesy little things like rubber bracelets and gaudy plastic rings, but there was also some high end stuff. Those were a bit out of reach, though. Suddenly, her eyes landed on the perfect target.

"Oh, Angel! Look!" she gestured excitedly to something on a shelf against the wall.

"What?" he looked, but didn't see anything special.

"The pig! It'd be a perfect match for Mr. Gordo!" she explained, referring to a small, stuffed pink pig that had a purple bow on its head. "It's only a hundred and fifteen tickets! We can get that many!"

As it happened, it took them over an hour and a half to win enough prize tickets. At least, Angel thought, there had been a wide variety of games that offered tickets. If he'd had to play skeeball the whole time, he probably would have gone insane. He'd had much better luck at the basketball game.

By the time they finished, Buffy was clutching the pig, which she'd already named Mrs. Gordo. He would have thought it silly, but anything that put a smile on Buffy's face, including a stuffed pig, was fine with him. He was just glad to get back outside and away from all the noise inside the arcade.

When his stomach growled, Angel glanced down at his watch. He was shocked to see that it was already after seven at night. The day had just flown by. Seeing a food vendor nearby, he pulled a few bills from his wallet. "Why don't you go grab us some food?"

"Sure." Buffy took the money and trotted off to the food stand, not even thinking to ask Angel what he wanted.

She had only been gone a minute when Angel felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Yanking it out, he looked at the display and felt his good mood deflate. He contemplated ignoring it, but knew he couldn't. With much trepidation, he answered and exchanged a short conversation with the caller. He finished quickly and had the phone back in his pocket before Buffy returned. He didn't want to ruin her day just yet.

They found a quieter section of the pier to eat on. Angel was unexpectedly silent while they sat on the bench, munching on hot dogs and fries. His silence worried Buffy. Throughout the day he'd been light-hearted and chatty, but now he seemed distracted. Something had happened while she'd been getting food. She didn't know what it was, but she knew that something had changed.

Buffy waited until they had finished eating and were sitting, staring out at the ocean, before asking. "What's wrong?"

The urge to keep the phone call to himself was strong, but Angel had to tell her. He hated it. They'd had such a perfect day, and now he was going to bring the past back to the forefront. There wasn't anything he could do about it, unfortunately.

"Gunn called," he finally answered after much contemplation.

Instantly on alert, Buffy's eyes darted all around them, expecting some sort of danger. "Did...did something happen?"

"Not exactly," he sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck. "I told you that he wanted to gather the team investigating Wilkins. He wasn't able to do it yesterday after he got back to LA, but they met today. Gunn gave them the information on your rape and the murders of your family."

"And?" Buffy felt the breath backing up in her lungs. Angel had told her the night before what his friend planned to do, how he planned to bring in others of the FBI. Now it all came down to what they thought of the information.

Angel took her hand, held it in his. "They saw the truth, Buffy. They saw what I saw, what Gunn saw."

"They...they...," she couldn't finish the sentence. Did that mean...

"They believe you're innocent," he completed her thoughts. "They're going to try to help you."

"Oh, God," she choked out, feeling tears well. This was what they'd hoped for. With the FBI behind her, she had a better chance of clearing her name, but hearing it said out loud was a shock to her system.

"The team wants to talk to you, though," Angel added the final caveat. "They want to hear everything from you. So they've asked us to be at their office at nine o'clock tomorrow morning."

"We...we have to...go there?" she stuttered, feeling overwhelmed, and more than a little worried.

"Just to talk. They want to get as much accurate information as possible so they can build an air tight case against Wilkins and Walker." Buffy still seemed worried, not that Angel could blame her, so he tried to soothe her fears. "They're not going to arrest you. Gunn assured me of that. They just need to know everything."

Buffy closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. She'd known this possibility existed. When Angel brought up the option of bringing in his friend Gunn from the FBI, she'd known that she'd have to talk about everything. Now that the time had come, she wasn't sure she could do it. Everything was just moving so fast. One minute, she'd been holed up in her rooms at her house, and the next, she was staying at Angel's and pursuing the truth of what had happened to her. It was so much to take in.

Could she really do it? And could she really take the chance that the FBI would be able to do what no one else had? Buffy weighed the pros and cons. What she knew in the end was that she wanted to be free of all of this. Today had been so much fun. She wanted to be able to do things like this whenever she chose. She wanted to be free to come and go anytime without having to disguise herself or wait until the cover of night. She wanted a normal life. So if that meant having to put her trust in Angel's friend and the FBI, could she do it?

Allowing Buffy the time to think it over, Angel remained quiet. This couldn't be an easy choice for her. The whole thing worried him as well. Still, he knew this was their best chance of bringing the truth to light.

Finally, Buffy seemed to come to a decision. "I'll go on one condition. Well, two. I want you there, and I want Willow, Spike and Xander as well. They were part of it all and know just as much as I do."

"That shouldn't be a problem. I'll call them in a few minutes," he offered, then picked up her hand again. "You're doing the right thing."

Buffy's eyes roamed around the pier, seeing everything and nothing. "I hope so," she whispered.

_

* * *

Author's Note: I have to give credit the __city of Santa Monica's website__, without which I would not have been able to write this chapter. All the places, street names, stores, and such mentioned in this part actually exist. I tried to be as accurate as possible given that I've never been there._

* * *

TBC 


	27. Chapter 26

_AN: Thank you again for all the wonderful reviews!_

* * *

**Chapter 26**

The sun had already been down an hour by the time Angel turned his car onto the road that lead to his beach house. Though it was better to return to town with Buffy at night, he'd have rather gotten home hours ago. Between their outing yesterday, and everything that had happened today, he was exhausted. He knew Buffy was as well. She'd slept most of the trip back to Sunnydale, but was now awake, silently staring out the car's side window.

Angel couldn't blame Buffy for her morose mood. The meeting with the FBI earlier this morning had gone well, but it had been draining. Angel couldn't help but wish the timing had been better. The trip to Santa Monica yesterday had done so much for her. By the end of the day, she'd been laughing and smiling as if all was right in the world. Then the call from Gunn had come, requesting that they meet with the investigating team.

From that point on, Buffy had become quiet and withdrawn. He hated that her perfect day had been ruined. It couldn't have been helped, though. If Buffy ever wanted to be freed from the chains that kept her existence secret, she needed the FBI's help. She'd gone willing to the meeting, but it was obvious to Angel that she would have rather not been there.

As requested by Buffy, her friends Willow, Spike and Xander had driven up to LA and met them before hand. They'd been more than willing to help in any way they could, and their support had bolstered Buffy's courage. The five of them had had breakfast at the hotel Angel had checked himself and Buffy into for the night and then gone to the FBI's field office in Los Angeles.

The meeting had been, in a word, long. For three hours the investigating team Gunn had gone to questioned Buffy and her friends. Angel was mostly a bystander until his role in the whole thing came into play. The rest of the time, he'd simply offered moral support to Buffy as she'd faced down the stoic men in suits asking her to recount the last seven years of her life.

In order to get as clear a picture as possible, the agents had asked Buffy to start at the very beginning: the day Cameron Walker raped her. Though seven years had passed since that horrible day, it hadn't been easy for Buffy to verbally recall the horrible event. But she'd done it, and then gone on to relay all of the things that had happened afterwards. Between her, Willow, Spike and Xander, they'd given the agents a detailed history of how Buffy had been ostracized, harassed and condemned.

From there, they'd moved on to the murders of Joyce, Dawn, and Owen Giles. Buffy was only able to give meager of details about the deaths of her family members. Until recently, she'd only known what had happened that night. Her friends had conveyed to the agents what had happened afterwards, what was said in town, what they'd believed, and such. All Buffy had been able to add was that she'd lived in the attic of her house, sneaking out occasionally at night, and knowing only that her mother, sister, and brother were dead.

Angel picked up the story from there, relaying about his move to Sunnydale, about seeing a figure on the beach, and about how the people in town had acted when he'd questioned them about the person. He explained hearing about the ghost story, meeting Willow and Spike and hearing about Buffy Giles, and then all that had occurred afterwards, including finding out that Buffy was really alive and being hidden by her father.

Though the ordeal had been tiring and draining for all of them, Angel had to give the agents credit. Not once during the three hour session had they been suspicious or condemning. That's not to say they believed everything at face value, but they had listened with open minds. When questions needed to be asked, they asked and respected the answers. Angel had worried that they would be wary of Buffy or the truth of the situation, but it had seemed to him that the agents were on their side.

There had been quite a debate at the end regarding Buffy, something Angel suspected would happen. Technically, Buffy was wanted for murder, but the FBI saw the flaws in that accusation. They had wanted to keep Buffy in Los Angeles and put her in a safe house until they had more information or were able to resolve the situation somehow. Buffy adamantly refused. The agents hadn't been happy, but they also knew they needed Buffy's cooperation to help their case. In the end, they allowed her to leave, with the added order that she maintain her secret presence and that she be available if needed.

The only thing that had dismayed Angel about the whole meeting was that the FBI had not been able to tell him anything about what they planned to do. He was guessing that was because they didn't know. All he'd been told was that they were still gathering the facts before they put any type of plan into action. His one request to them was that he, Buffy, and her friends be kept updated, especially if the agents thought there was going to be any danger to Buffy, or given their involvement, any of them.

Once the meeting was over they had all gone to lunch at a restaurant Angel was familiar with from his time living in LA. Throughout the meal, Buffy was solemn, seemingly lost in the memories the session with the FBI had brought back to the forefront. After seeing her so happy the day before, Angel hated the frown that now marred her features. Wanting to lighten the mood any way possible, Angel had suggested that they go back to Santa Monica for the afternoon with Willow, Xander and Spike to show them the sights. The idea had brightened Buffy somewhat, so her friends – their friends, he supposed he should call them – had agreed.

The hours they spent wandering the shops and playing in the arcade improved morale to a certain point, but all of them were distracted by their tense situation. Still, they had fun and a smile had returned to Buffy's face, even if it was only a mild one compared to the one from the last time they'd been in Santa Monica. It had also given Buffy a chance to interact with her high school friends in a more normal situation. Angel had enjoyed seeing their camaraderie. He'd never really had anything like that since his school years were spent with tutors while on the road with his archaeologist father.

Eventually, the hour had grown later and sunset drew near. They'd parted ways with Willow, Xander and Spike and climbed in Angel's car to head back to Sunnydale. As much as he would have liked to keep the semi-vacation going, they needed to go back. He needed to return to work tomorrow.

So now they were almost back to his house, back to a place where Buffy had to blend into the shadows and act as if she didn't exist. He glanced over at her to see that she was still staring out the window. It wasn't until that moment Angel realized this was probably the first time in four years she was really getting to see any of Sunnydale. On the way to LA, she'd kept herself hidden in the car, but since it was dark now, they hadn't bothered with that detail though she did have her hat on.

"You okay?" he asked, making sure to keep one eye on the road.

"Yeah." She was silent for a moment, then said, "I wish we could have stayed in Los Angeles."

"I know," he sighed, hating her weary tone. "You'll be able to go back soon, or go anywhere you want to go."

Buffy turned to face Angel, her features mostly hidden in the dark car. "Do you really think so?"

"The FBI believed you, Buffy. They'll be able to get the truth out, and take Wilkins and his cronies down." He hoped that was true.

"But what if they can't? What if the rest of my life will be like this?" The thought of never being free scared Buffy more than she could put into words. She didn't want to have to spend the rest of her years never leaving the house. It was sucking the life out of her.

"I wish there was some kind of promise I could give you, but we just have to believe that the FBI knows what they are doing." It was a weak offer of comfort, but unfortunately, it was the best he could do given the circumstances.

Silence returned to the car, conversation soothing neither of them. Within minutes, Angel turned into his driveway. His mild relief at being back at his house lasted for only few seconds as he soon caught sight of a car in his driveway. He thought he recognized it, but he wasn't sure.

"Someone's here," he stated, though he realized Buffy had already noticed by the tension suddenly radiating off her body.

"It's my Father's car," she said dully.

"Giles?" Though it was dark, Angel could just make out the features of the car he thought he remembered seeing his boss, and Buffy's father, driving. He groaned and gripped the steering wheel tighter. This was the last thing either of them needed at the moment. It looked like they would have to deal with him, though. Angel punched the remote to open the garage door and waited while it slid upwards. "It's probably better if we go in through the garage and let Giles in through the front door. I don't want to take any chances with anybody seeing you."

"Okay," she mumbled, her eyes trained on the figure she could see standing on the front porch watching the car pull into the garage.

They left their packages from shopping in the car, choosing instead to greet Giles first. Together, they walked through the door off the garage that led into a sort of mud room next to the kitchen. Buffy was tempted to ask Angel not to led her father in. Right now, she just didn't know if she had the energy to talk to him. She had to, though. It wouldn't be fair to leave him standing out there.

Tired was a bit of an understatement to describe how she was feeling at the moment. The hours spent in Santa Monica with Angel yesterday had been draining enough, but on top of that, the meeting with the FBI had sapped every last ounce of energy Buffy had. She'd answered each and every one of their questions, told them everything thing she knew, and listened to her friends add their two cents. The whole thing had been almost like a twisted version of 'This Is Your Life, Buffy Giles'. Except there hadn't been any happy memories or reunions with old friends or teachers. All it had been was a reminder that she'd once been normal, she'd once had a life and family, and now she had nothing and was thought dead by all but a few people. No, there was nothing happy about that story.

She'd had a futile, far-fetched hope that the FBI agents would say, okay great, we'll go arrest them all now and you can go about your life. Stupid, Buffy knew, but she'd still hoped. Was it so much to ask that she be able to have a normal life again, or as close to one as someone like her could get? Probably.

Now, she had to speak with her father as well. She hadn't seen him since the night he'd come to Angel's, wanting her to return home; the night he'd realized his belief that Buffy was a murderer was wrong. Angel had talked to him since then, but Buffy had put it off, unable to find words of what she would say to him. Looked like she'd have to make it up as she went along.

Buffy trailed behind Angel as he made his way to the front door. Call her chicken, but she'd take even a few extra seconds to prepare. All too soon, though, he was at the door and unlocking the dead bolt. Before he even had the door all the way open, her father was pushing his way into the house.

"I trusted you to take of my daughter, Angel!" the older man snarled, coming toe-to-toe with Angel. "I specifically told you that she needs to remain hidden!"

"Yes, you did," Angel said as calmly as possible.

"Then please explain why I saw you driving up to the house with her in the car! That does not show me you are keeping her safe!" Giles retorted hotly. He didn't give Angel an opportunity to answer. "I grew worried when you called out from work yesterday, and tried calling but nobody answered the telephone. Then today you were out as well, so I attempted to call again. When there was still no response, I came here. It is a good thing I did. Just where the Hell have you been?"

Angel listened to the angry ramble patiently. He didn't necessarily appreciate being yelled at, but he could certainly understand Giles' rage. The man was simply concerned for his daughter's safety. He'd spent four years protecting her, keeping her existence secret. Regrettably, the only answer Angel had to give was not going to soothe Giles' fears.

Rather than beat around the bush, Angel gave a straight, simple explanation. "We went to Santa Monica yesterday so Buffy could have a chance to do something fun."

"Y-you...you what!" Giles sputtered. "How could you be so stupid? So ignorant?" He paced away, muttering under his breath.

"Daddy, stop," Buffy said quietly, deciding the time had come to stand up for herself when it came to her father.

"Buffy, please be quiet. I am just trying to do what is best for you," Giles replied pleadingly.

"No," Buffy denied. "I won't be quiet. I've been doing that for too long."

"I have told you what will happen if anyone finds out you are alive," her father warned ominously.

"We were careful. Nobody saw us." Buffy's head lowered for several long seconds. She inhaled deeply then raised her eyes again. "I wanted, needed, to do something normal. I've been living like a zombie for seven years. I can't do it anymore."

Giles started to speak, stopped. His jaw clenched as he fought the need to reprimand her for her stupidity. He couldn't, wouldn't, allow anything to happen to her. She was all that he had left in this world. But as he stood there looking at her, he couldn't not notice the healthy glow to her skin that must have come from this trip Angel had taken her on. It was impossible to miss the change in her. For the first time since the night four years earlier when he'd lost his wife and other two children, Buffy really looked alive, not like the shell she had been. Giles was torn. Seeing her looking so well brought joy to his heart, but it was virtually blotted out by his fear that something bad would happen to her.

"I don't like what you did, but I suppose it is a moot point now," Giles voiced, his shoulders slumping.

"Nothing happened. We just did some shopping and visited the pier," Angel added, trying to ease Giles' worries. "We meant to come back last night, but-" He immediately cut off his words, realizing what he was about to reveal. Giles had no idea what they, he, Buffy, and their friends, had decided to do to help Buffy.

"What's going on?" Giles prompted slowly, catching an undercurrent of something. He just wasn't sure what.

Angel looked at Buffy, an apologetic expression on his face. He hadn't meant to bring up the meeting with the FBI. It was fairly easy to assume Giles wouldn't be happy about it. "It's up to you, Buffy," he said to her, letting her know that he trusted her to make the decision herself.

The choice was hers, but Buffy almost wished it wasn't. Her father deserved to know what they'd done, but she wasn't eager to tell him. Given the way he'd acted when he'd found her sneaking into their house after visiting with Angel, he wasn't going to take it well that not only had she met with other people, but that she'd revealed her situation and asked for help. She had to tell him, though.

"Daddy, we should go sit down in the living room," she prefaced the talk. Sitting down would make everything easier. Okay, that was stretch. At least it would give her another minute to prepare.

Eyes narrowed, Giles debated demanding to be told whatever they were hiding right now, but he relented and walked quickly to the room on his right. He didn't sit, though. He was too agitated to sit. Standing would have to do.

"Well?" he cued again.

Neither answered immediately. Angel led Buffy over to the sofa and waited for her to seat herself before sitting as well, leaving a proprietary cushion between them. There wasn't any need to incite Giles anger further by sitting too close to Buffy. Giles was already suspicious enough, and even though there wasn't exactly anything romantic going on between him and Buffy, it was better to err on the side of caution.

Giles cleared his throat, letting them know he was still waiting. Angel was about to begin explaining when Buffy put a hand on his arm. He glanced at her, curious at the gesture.

"Let me," she whispered. "I need to do this. I need to take control of my life again." Buffy waited until Angel gave her a small nod. Releasing a tense breath, her eyes went back to her father, who was standing on the other side of the coffee table, arms cross over his chest.

"We met with a friend of Angel's this morning," she began, then went for the kill. "He's an agent with the FBI."

The explosion came almost instantly. "The FBI!" Giles shouted, stunned and enraged. His accusatory eyes went to Angel. "How could you be so bloody stupid! What in the Hell were you thinking!"

"Giles-"

"You forced her to do this, didn't you?" Giles charged, throwing daggers at Angel with his eyes. "I knew I shouldn't have-"

"Daddy, stop!" Buffy ordered, jumping off the couch. When he didn't listen, she tried again. "Stop!"

The room fell silent, except for Buffy's heavy breathing. She rubbed her arms, feeling chilled by the confrontation. Both Angel and her father and Angel were watching her. It left her with the uncomfortable feeling of being in the spotlight.

Her father was furious with Angel, that was obvious. She needed to get Giles to listen to her, really listen to what she was saying. At the moment, that didn't seem quite possible. So Buffy considered her options. The solution came to her, though she didn't quite like it. Even so, it would also be another step to taking control of her life.

"Angel," Buffy softly said, rotating to look at him. "Could you give me a few minutes to talk to my Dad?"

"Are you sure?" he asked. Angel felt the determination radiating off Buffy. Pride in her suffused him. She had such inner strength. He wondered if she knew it.

"Yeah," she nodded, smiling slightly. "I'll be fine."

"Okay. I'll be in the kitchen in if you need me." Angel stood, but before he could leave, he couldn't stop himself from tossing a warning look in Giles direction. He wouldn't tolerate the older man doing anything to hurt Buffy, even if he was her father.

Buffy waited until Angel had left the room, until she was left alone with her father. What was she supposed to say now? There were so many things she needed to tell him. One thing, though, stood out first and foremost. It needed to be said above all else.

"I didn't kill them." There, she'd said it. "I need you to believe that."

"Buffy...," Giles sighed in resignation. He honestly wasn't quite sure what to believe anymore. He'd had four years to accept the truth, but even so, the knowledge that his daughter had slaughtered their family froze his blood. It wasn't that he wanted to believe it. Who would want to believe such a thing? But he'd been there that night. He'd seen the evidence. There was nothing else for him to believe.

Except now there was. Only a few nights before, Angel had presented him with contradictory evidence. What he'd read changed the situation entirely. Everything in that folder told him Buffy could not have murdered Joyce, Dawn, and Owen. He so desperately wanted to accept that. And at first, he'd believed the information at face value. Later, doubts had arisen.

Knowing that Buffy had killed three members of their family had destroyed him. He couldn't have said he understood what happened, but he knew the reasons why. Buffy had been mentally broken by all she'd suffered. He'd blamed himself for not anticipating her mind completely snapping. So though the events were horrible and tragic, he'd known the reasons. But to think that someone could be so evil as to murder three innocent people, and to frame a fourth? That was beyond his scope of understanding. Still, he'd read Angel's new evidence. It was just hard to reconcile the new information with what he'd seen that terrible night.

"I know you-"

"No. I didn't do it," she repeated her assertion.

"Do you remember what happened that night?" he managed to ask. It was the one question he had never dared to ask her, for fear of what the answer might be. No matter what she told him, or what she'd done, she was his daughter and he would always love her.

"I don't really remember anything," she admitted. "Most of the night is still a blank. We were sitting there watching a movie one minute, and then the next thing I remember is you picking me up in the closet. But I know I didn't do it. I know, in here," she placed a hand over her heart, "That I couldn't have killed them. I loved them."

Oh, how he wished what Buffy was saying was the truth. He'd give anything to know for certain that his beloved daughter hadn't snapped one night and killed. For days, months, even years, he had wallowed in the knowledge of what she'd done. Logic had prescribed that he hate her, condemn her for her crimes. His heart directed otherwise. She was his daughter, a part of him. He'd seen her life torn to pieces after a brutal rape. At times, he even blamed himself for the murders because he hadn't seen that Buffy was hanging by a thread, a loose canon ready to blow at any moment. He'd never fully been able to blame her. Yes, she'd done it, but deep down, it hadn't been her fault. She was a victim. Just like all of them.

"Buffy, I honestly don't know what to believe anymore. The things Angel showed me..."

"I know...I know you don't believe me," Buffy choked back a sob. She desperately wanted her father to accept what she was telling him. She wanted him to believe her words. The information they'd already shown him had placed doubts in his mind. He seemed to have accepted the truth, at first. But she knew now he still wasn't sure. What else could she say to him? An idea occurred. "Wait here, there's something else you should read."

Giles could only watch as his daughter strode out of the room. What more could there be for him to read? Whatever it was, he would do whatever he could to help her try to put all of this behind her. As much as he hated to admit it, she looked so much better than she had before her friends and Angel discovered she wasn't dead. There was life in her again. It gave him hope that maybe she could live her own life again. He would have to get her out of Sunnydale, though, take her somewhere she could begin again where no one would know her or suspect her.

As he contemplated that, Buffy came back to the room with the same folder as before in her hand. She handed it to him and asked him to read the paper on top. Confused, he studied the outside of the folder. What was so damned important? He complied, though, and took a seat in a nearby chair before opening the folder and taking the first sheet in his hand.

This was her last hope. Buffy knew this was the only remaining way her father would accept the truth that she hadn't been responsible for her Mom's, Owen's, and Dawn's deaths. If he didn't believe it...well, she didn't know what she would do then.

She watched her father nervously, and knew the instant the new piece of information sunk in. The blood drained from his face and his mouth dropped open. She knew the feeling. When Gunn had explained about the results of the medical examiner's tox screen, she'd been beyond shocked to learn they had all been drugged that night. She'd felt like the floor had dropped out from under her. Her father was now experiencing the same thing.

Buffy said nothing and waited for him to finish reading the report. She was glad that she and Angel had gotten a copy of the FBI's summary of the ME's findings to keep. Now, her father would know. Now, she hoped, he would finally accept the truth. Truly accept it.

Reaching the bottom on the back of the page, Giles' eyes closed and his head dropped forward. The sheet of paper slipped from his fingers and fluttered to the ground. He'd had his doubts...but now... What had he done?

"Dear God," he gasped, unable to hold the tears in his eyes back. "Dear God, what have I done?"

"Daddy," Buffy cried out and dropped to her knees in front of him.

"Buffy," he sobbed, forcing himself to meet her eyes, despite his guilt and torment. "I thought...I never...I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. I understand why you believed I'd done it," she attempted to soothe him.

"I never questioned, not until Angel first showed me his findings," he snarled, the anger directed solely at himself.

The facts on the page were still trying to settle in his mind. He was still trying to understand. One thing was clear, though. Absolutely clear. There were no doubts this time. Buffy, his daughter, hadn't committed murder. She hadn't killed Joyce, Dawn, and Owen, as he'd always believed. They'd essentially be drugged and executed. In all the passing years, he'd never once considered...

"How could this have happened?" His head snapped up and his eyes darkened. Of course, he knew exactly how it'd happened. The police. Or rather the chief of police. Cameron Walker's, Buffy's rapist's, father. They were the reason this had happened! Them and that bloody bastard Wilkins! He knew that without a doubt as well.

"That son of a bitch," he snapped, rage streaming through his bloodstream.

Her father had reached the same conclusion the rest of them had. Buffy grabbed his hands before he could leap off the chair and do God knew what. The expression on his face told her he would likely seek out Chief Walker and tear him to pieces. She wouldn't exactly mind, but she couldn't let him do it. Those responsible would be punished. The FBI would she to it. She hoped.

"Daddy, wait," she begged. "There's more you need to hear. About the meeting Angel and-."

The ringing of the telephone cut her off. She turned her head towards the living room's entranceway. After the second ring, she heard Angel pick up the phone and say something, hello, she assumed. Being so far away, she could only hear his muffled voice, but something about the tone set her nerves on edge. So she waited.

Only a minute later, the sound of his voice ceased and his footsteps came towards the living room. He appeared a moment later. Buffy knew instantly that something was going on. His face was tense and his worry was obvious.

"Angel? What is it?"

"That was Gunn," he answered, glancing first at Giles, then at Buffy, where his gaze remained. "His team is coming down to Sunnydale tomorrow. They're going to seize evidence from the police station. Including all the information about you."

* * *

TBC 


	28. Chapter 27

_AN: Thank you to everyone for the wonderful reviews!_

_Also...for those interested, I have a new short fic out. I couldn't post it here because of ratings restrictions. It's up on my site (link on my profile page) if you want to read it!_

**Chapter 27

* * *

**

With only a sliver of moon showing, the back porch was almost pitch black as Buffy and Angel sat on the bench. They weren't talking, simply enjoying the peace of the night. Buffy hadn't said much since the visit with her father earlier in the evening. She had to be worried about her father and what Gunn had called and told them, Angel figured. None of this was easy to deal with.

After the call from Gunn, Angel had joined Buffy and Giles and filled Giles in on what they had done, the meeting with the FBI and what they hoped to accomplish. As expected, Giles was not happy with their actions. He thought they were putting Buffy at risk. Which they were, but it was their only choice. By the time they finished explaining to Giles, and convincing him it was the right thing to do, he seemed to accept it, if reluctantly.

Giles hadn't wanted to leave Buffy. He was worried about her safety and wanted to protect her. Before he'd left, he'd asked Buffy again to come home with him, telling her it was safer for her there, but Buffy refused to go. She'd told him she couldn't go back to that house, that there were too many bad memories for her there. As much as he'd hated it, Giles hadn't been able to fight her on that issue. So he'd left her at Angel's, making sure Angel knew that if anything happened to Buffy, it would lie solely on Angel's shoulders.

The burden was a heavy one for Angel to bear, and he sincerely hoped he didn't let Giles down. Things seemed to be moving fast now that Gunn and the FBI were involved. Angel had no idea what was going to happen next, but he knew something was. It was all going to come to a head soon.

Next to Angel, Buffy shivered. "Are you cold?" he asked, raising his voice a little so it could be heard over the soft tune of the radio he'd set in the kitchen window before they'd come outside.

"No," she denied. "I was just thinking about the call from Gunn."

"You're worried," he assumed, rightly so.

"It's kinda hard not to be," Buffy admitted, shifting on the bench to sit sideways and face Angel. "They're going to know something is up when the FBI barge into the police station and want files and stuff."

"Probably," conceded Angel. "But they're not going to know why. There is no reason for them to suspect that you being alive and innocent is the motivation behind the FBI's moves."

"What else could they think?"

"That the FBI is investigating the Sunnydale police force," he posed what he thought they would think. "Gunn said they are going to take other unrelated files to try to throw them off a bit. Plus it will give them a basis of the PD's competency. They want to see if the cops did their job on other cases. If they did, it's all the more proof on your side that your case was purposely mishandled."

"I never thought of that," Buffy mused, amazed at the FBI's train of reasoning. "I just hope everything goes okay for them tomorrow."

"I'm sure it will," he assured her. "Gunn and his team know what they are doing."

Buffy cocked her head and looked at Angel. The pale, barely-there moonlight highlighted his cheekbones and shoulders, but left the rest of him shrouded in darkness. He was so much bigger than her, but she'd never once felt threatened by him. From the first moment she'd met him, she'd felt safe in his presence. She guessed it was his gentle, caring nature. Some people gave off an essence of coldness and hate, but everything about Angel was pure and good.

Where would she be if Angel hadn't come into her life? She'd still be sequestered in her attic rooms in her father's house, living under a veil of grief and depression. Angel had changed all that. He'd thundered into her life and brought the sun back. Buffy had hope now, hope for the future, hope that she would some day be just a normal girl again. Even if her innocence wasn't able to be proved, there was no way she could ever repay Angel for all that he'd done for her.

Angel noticed Buffy staring at him and felt a little fidgety. It was like she was looking right through him, into him. "What?"

"I, umm...I just wanted to say thank you," she said softly, blushing as she realized she'd been staring at him. "I know I've said it before, but I wanted to say it again. You've done so much for me when you didn't have to."

"You don't have to thank me, Buffy, but you're welcome," he reached out and touched her hand. "I'm glad I could help, even if just a little. I care about you."

Buffy blushed again, thankful that the dark night hid the reddish tint to her skin. It was just so strange having a guy – a guy like Angel – saying something like that to her. Before she'd lost most of her family, she'd spent three years being hated by almost everyone. There hadn't been many kind words to her after the rape.

She didn't want to think about that now. Not when the night was so beautiful and she was sitting here with Angel. There'd been too much time spent today thinking of all the ugly things in her life. Right now, she just wanted to forget about it all.

A song on the radio caught Buffy's attention and she smiled. "I love this song. I haven't heard it in so long."

The radio was turned fairly low so Angel strained to hear it. He immediately recognized the tune. It had been quite popular when it came out. "_November Rain_ by Guns 'N Roses" Angel recited the song's name.

"Willow and I would listen to it over and over again when we were in junior high," she told him.

"I'll go turn it up a little." Angel stood and took a few quick steps to the back door and stepped into the kitchen. Reaching over toward the windowsill, he twisted the volume knob a few ticks, enough to make the music easier to hear, but not so much that it was loud. Once that was done, he returned to the deck and approached Buffy.

A contented smile greeted him, and Angel smiled in return. He loved seeing her during these rare unguarded moments. There was such a different aura to her then. An idea popped into Angel's head and he held out a hand to Buffy. "Would you like to dance?"

"D-dance?" Buffy sputtered, thrown completely off guard.

"Uh huh, dance," he repeated, keeping his hand held out.

"Why...why would you want to dance with me?" Dance with Angel? Such a perplexing idea! But she couldn't deny that it sounded nice.

"I can't imagine you got much of an opportunity to dance when you were younger," he said casually. Angel didn't want to frighten her by adding that he would enjoy the chance to hold her in his arms.

"No," Buffy's head dropped down. "I didn't even get to go to either of my proms."

"Proms are underrated, but we can dance here and pretend it's your senior prom," he suggested, taking a step closer. He'd do anything to help wipe away her bad memories.

"I don't know how to dance," she mumbled dejectedly.

"We're not going to dance fancy," he corrected. "Just let me lead. It'll be easy."

"O-okay." Buffy reached out and took Angel's hand, letting him tug her to her feet.

Leading her a few steps away from the bench, onto the middle of the deck, Angel stopped. Now, how to best approach this? For a moment, he doubted his sanity, but the feel of Buffy's trusting hand in his reminded him of why he wanted to dance with her. They weren't going to be doing formal dancing, so proper hand holds weren't necessary. Settling for the easiest method possible, Angel took the hand he held and raised it to his shoulder and then reached for the other and placed it on the opposite shoulder.

Buffy stood perfectly still, having no clue at all what she should do next. She'd danced before, many, many years ago when she was in junior high. That didn't exactly count. Back then, girls and boys were still trying to decide if the opposite sex had cooties. So she was at a loss as to how to proceed. She would trust in Angel's direction.

They stood still for several seconds, with only Buffy's hands loosely clasped on Angel's shoulders. Now that they'd gotten to this position, Angel couldn't decide where to put his own hands. Her hips seemed like a bad idea. He didn't want to frighten her. He decided on her waist and as gently as possible placed his hands, making sure not to grip her too tightly and to leave several inches between them. When she didn't flinch or pull away, he knew she was okay with what they were doing.

Thankfully, _November Rain_ was a long song so by the time they found their comfort zone, it was still playing. Angel wasn't exactly the king of the dance floor. Okay, he didn't know how to dance at all. The few times he'd been goaded into dancing, he'd looked like a chicken with epilepsy. But he could handle this.

Unguided, their bodies began to sway to the rhythm of the song, matching each others' pace without even trying. If anyone had been watching them, their actions wouldn't exactly have been called dancing, but the simple movements suited both of them. Who needed fancy steps when you could be close to someone important to you the way they were?

The current song ended and Angel nearly wanted to shout 'no'. He didn't want this to end yet. He was enjoying it too much. To his relief, though, the next song began immediately and he was even happier to realize that it was equally appropriate for slow-dancing. He had always liked the song _Stairway to Heaven_ by Led Zeppelin.

Angel was just falling into the morose tune when he thought he heard what sounded like a sniffle. He pulled back slightly so he could see Buffy's face, illuminated only by the soft glow of the light coming from the kitchen. Horror dawned when he saw two lonely tears dangling from her eyelashes. What had he done?

"Buffy? What's wrong? Did I do something?" he asked anxiously.

She shook her head and whispered, "No. It's...it's just that Owen loved Zeppelin. The song reminded me."

"Damn," Angel muttered under his breath. "I'm sorry. Let me go change the station."

He started to turn but Buffy held onto his shoulders. "It's okay," she promised him. "I just wasn't expecting it."

"Are you sure?" he voiced his doubts.

Nodding, Buffy used one hand to swipe at the tears. "I-I just want to keep dancing."

Angel heard her sniffle again and did the only thing he could do, comforted her. His left hand slid lightly up her back until he reached the lower part of her head, while his right hand remained on her waist but moved farther around to her back. Pushing lightly, and taking the smallest step forward, their bodies touched. He expected her to pull away, but she offered no resistance to the move. To his surprise, she turned her head until her cheek rested over his heart.

A soft sigh slipped past her lips before Buffy could stop it. She'd had a small moment of panic when Angel moved closer, but it had eased away quickly. All she knew was that she felt protected in Angel's arms, like she was in a soft, strong cocoon where nothing could hurt her.

The sound of Angel's heartbeat echoed quietly in her ear and she closed her eyes, slipping into a point in time she never wanted to leave. Together they swayed gently back an forth, aware of nothing but the smooth strains of the old Zeppelin song and the warm kiss of the early summer air. It was the perfect moment, one neither of them would ever forget.

* * *

Despite his words of reassurance to Buffy the night before regarding the FBI's plan to gather evidence, that there was nothing to be concerned about, Angel was worried himself. With the way things had happened in this town before, who knew what could happen next? That's why he had planned to stay at home all day, to be there just in case. He hadn't wanted to take any chances that something might happen to Buffy. 

Unfortunately, fate seemed to have other plans. Just before noon, Giles called to inform Angel that there was a work related emergency. Giles had tried to handle the problem himself, tried anything to get it fixed so that Angel wouldn't need to come in, but they required his expertise. So finally, Giles called Angel to discuss the problem, and Angel swiftly realized he would have to go in to the office. Which meant leaving Buffy alone. He didn't have a choice, though.

As he grabbed his soft, leather briefcase and prepared to leave, Angel repeated to himself that Buffy would be fine. There was no reason for anything to happen. No one except for himself, Giles, Willow, Spike, and Xander knew that Buffy was a live. And the FBI. So she would be safe at his house, where no one but those who knew the truth, would know about her existence. Even knowing that, Angel was still worried, and he continued worrying all the way to the magazine's office building.

A short while after arriving at work, Angel was sitting at his desk, taking a few minutes to go over his messages and emails that had come in during the last two days that he hadn't been in the office. He tried to focus on his job, but as he sat there at his desk, his mind drifted back to dancing with Buffy the night before. The pleasant thoughts caused a smile to break out on his face.

They had danced for four songs before being rudely interrupted by Shadow, who had decided to try out her climbing skills on the screen door that led from the kitchen to the back deck. Buffy had laughed hysterically at the sight of Shadow clinging to the metal screen, staring at them through owlish eyes. Just another precious moment to add to the memory of the night.

Peeking at his watch, Angel saw that he'd only been away from the house for a little less than half an hour. He hoped Buffy was okay. The sooner he dealt with the emergency, the sooner he could get back to her. Before he got down to business, though, he needed to make a phone call. Swiveling his chair, he kicked at his office door. It swung closed, but didn't latch shut.

Angel snatched the phone off the cradle and quickly dialed. A moment later, he heard Willow's cheery voice greet him.

"Hi Willow," he returned. "Is there any way you could go over and hang out with Buffy for a couple hours?"

When Willow asked why, he explained to her about what Gunn and the FBI team were doing today, and how it worried him that Buffy was at his house along. He'd hoped Willow would be able to go over there to ease his mind. To his dismay, and Willow's as well, she was tied up at work with a surprise visit from a health inspector. As she explained to Angel, they had periodic, surprise inspections to make sure they were following all the necessary health codes. She and Spike would be tied up until the woman left. Angel suggested Xander and was told by Willow that Xander was in LA for the day picking up supplies for the construction crew he was working on.

Dejected at not having found a solution, Angel thanked Willow anyway. She offered to call Buffy every half hour or so to ease both their concerns. Angel accepted and said goodbye. He clicked off his computer monitor before standing and walking to the door. Hopefully, he could get this problem worked out as soon as possible.

* * *

Somewhere in Sunnydale, a cell phone rang. 

"Yeah?" a gruff voice answered, then listened idly.

"I remember the plan," the voice said, irritated.

"It'll be done as soon as possible," were the final words spoken into the cell phone.

* * *

Back at the beach house, Buffy decided that she would help Angel out by doing some cleaning. She pulled the vacuum cleaner out, intent on sweeping the carpets in the downstairs of the house. It was the least she could do for Angel after all he had done for her. And it would keep her occupied. She hoped. Her mind seemed to be swirling with all kinds of thoughts this afternoon. 

Had Gunn already been to the police station? Had they gotten the files? She had no idea what time they'd planned to descend on Sunnydale. Just like she had no idea if she should be worried about what they were doing. Angel said everything would be fine. Cameron Walker's father, Mayor Wilkins and their cronies had no reason to believe she was really alive, and knew what they'd done, or suspected they'd done. So there was no reason for her to be worried about being home alone.

Knowing that and believing it were two different things, Buffy thought wryly. She'd nearly jumped out of her shoes ten minutes ago when Shadow had crept up on her and batted at her foot. The poor kitten must have thought she was insane for shrieking and grabbing the lamp off the end table simply because her foot had been tapped.

So she would vacuum and keep her mind busy. That idea didn't quite play out the way Buffy hoped because as she pushed the machine around the living room carpet, thoughts of Angel flickered to life. She sighed unconsciously at the memory of their dance on the deck only hours before. It had been wonderful, so innocent and perfect. Not once had it felt uncomfortable. Well, not really.

A pang of sadness hit Buffy. She'd missed so many things like that. When she should have been goofing off with her friends and going to school dances, she'd been hiding out in her home, kept there by the vengeful looks tossed her way by just about anyone because she'd accused the police chief's son of rape. Then when she should have been going to college, meeting people, and figuring out what she wanted to do with the rest of her life, she'd been secluded in the attic of her house, lost in the depression and grief of losing her family, and unknowingly an accused murderer who was believed to have committed suicide.

What a life. Or non-life.

Everything had been destroyed because of Cameron Walker, because of what he'd done to her, and because of the power his family and friends wielded. Where would she be now if she'd never encountered Cameron that day after school? What would she be doing?

Buffy allowed herself to dream for a moment, to fantasize about the life she'd lost.

Visions of a senior prom danced in her mind. Laughing with her friends at their high school graduation. A summer of freedom before hitting the books. Sharing an apartment with Willow as they attended Sunnydale University together. Papers and midterms. Study dates and parties. Deciding on a career path. And then finally graduating.

If her life had gone as it was supposed to, she would have graduated from college just a few months ago. What would she have majored in? Would she be taking a few months to enjoy life before settling down into a job? Would she have a boyfriend?

All valid questions, but none of them mattered. Her life hadn't gone that way. Cameron and the people of this town had seen to that. They'd killed every hope she'd ever had. Just as they'd surely killed her mother, brother and sister.

Anger seethed inside Buffy. An anger more intense than she'd ever felt before. They'd taken everything from her! She pushed the vacuum forcefully across the floor, slamming it into the base of the couch without even noticing. She hoped they paid for what they'd done! She hoped they rotted in jail for the rest of their lives, never again able to feel the very freedom they'd seized from her!

Over the loud churning of the vacuum and the roaring anger buzzing in her ears, Buffy never heard the phone ring or heard the crunch of gravel as a car pulled slowly into the driveway.

* * *

Inside the internet cafe in town, Willow paced the floor of her office, chewing nervously on her lower lip. She had tried to call Buffy twice, and gotten the answering machine both times. Why wasn't Buffy answering? Had something happened? 

No, Willow shook her head. She was being a worry-wort. Buffy was probably just in the shower or listening to loud music or somewhere in the house where she couldn't hear the phone ring. Yeah, it was one of things.

What if it wasn't? What should she do?

Willow looked to the phone, to her car keys, to the back door, and then to the inner window where she could see Spike talking to the health inspector. Why couldn't Buffy just have answered the phone?

* * *

Angel was standing at one of the counters inside the photography department when his cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocked and looked at the Caller ID. Willow. Angel's heart stuttered. Why was Willow calling him? 

Turning away from one of the magazine's interns, his thumb hit the Talk button. "Willow? What's wrong?"

"Angel. It's probably nothing, but umm, I've tried to call Buffy twice in the last half hour and she hasn't answered either time," she relayed in a rushed voice.

"What?" he snapped, body going stiff.

"She's probably just busy, but I-"

"Thanks." Angel ended the call without another word, barked something to the intern and rushed out of the room.

Keys. He needed his car keys. Angel felt around in his pockets and sighed with relief that they were there. Now he wouldn't have to go all the way up to his office on the third floor when he was in the basement at the moment.

The elevator was on the fourth floor so Angel took the stairs, running up them two at a time and nearly bowling over a woman carrying a box full of mail. He didn't stop to apologize.

Something was wrong, he felt it in his gut. There were a million reasons for why Buffy might not have answered the phone when Willow called, but instinct told him it wasn't a good reason. He needed to get back to his house. Now.

He reached the first floor landing and opted to take the emergency exit that led directly outside instead of going through the building to the staff entrance. Giles would just have to deal with any problems that caused if there was some alarm that went off. Sure enough, an insanely loud buzzer sounded as soon as he pushed the door open. Whatever, he thought as he sprinted around the building to the parking lot and his car.

Within minutes, he was squealing out of the lot, foot stomped on the gas pedal. The drive normally took around ten minutes. He planned to make it in five. Or less. And damn any cops that dared to stop him.

Luck was with him as no cars, cops or otherwise, got in his way. He was a half mile from his house when, through the half open window to his left, an acrid smell reached his nose. Angel coughed and his brow furrowed. What the hell was that?

After another hundred feet, the dense forest that ran along the beach began to thin, and Angel had a more thorough view. What he saw made bile rise in his throat.

A plume of smoke was rising above the short trees just a little ways ahead. Near his house. From his house.

Shit! His house, with Buffy inside, was on fire!

* * *

TBC 


	29. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28

* * *

**

Angel's worst fear was confirmed as he rounded the bend in the driveway and his house came into view. Billowing black smoke leaked from several windows, through which he could also see the violent red flicker that signified fire. He slammed on the brakes before he got too close, jammed the car into Park and leapt out without even thinking to shut off the engine. The only on his mind was to make sure Buffy was out of the house.

"Buffy!" he shouted, hoping that she was somewhere on the beach, safe from harm. No answer came.

"Buffy!" he screamed again while running toward house. There was no sign of Buffy anywhere. He couldn't see her or hear her.

Surely she would have gotten out of the house by now. The fire didn't appear to be all consuming. She should have been able to get out. But what if someone had done something to her? What if she'd been taking a nap upstairs and was unaware of the fire? Angel called to her once more, his eyes searching all around, pleading silently for her to be found. He saw nothing.

In the distance, Angel thought he heard the whirring of sirens, but he couldn't be sure. The crash of the waves nearby on the beach, and the growing roar of the fire in his house masked all other sounds. He didn't know what to do. Buffy could still be inside the house. That was the only thought that mattered. And if she was still in there, he had to take a chance and go in after her. The fire department, if that's the siren he heard, might not get here in time.

Stripping off his suit jacket and tie, he tossed them to the ground and was quickly up the front stairs. The fire looked to be coming from the kitchen area and somewhere near his office, but the front door looking unharmed. Carefully, he reached out a hand and touched the metal knob. It was cold. Thank God!

Angel shoved the door open and was immediately surrounded by thick, black smoke. He choked on the vile mixture, waving a hand in front of his face, but it did no good. Dropping to his knees, he found clearer air and moved into the foyer. From his position, he could see a red glow coming from the kitchen and also somewhere to his right, either the living room or his office.

The kitchen was too dangerous to go near. He could already feel the blast of heat. Instead he crawled right, through the doorway to the living room. Sight was poor as smoke clouded his vision. He crept further in, squinting his eyes in a vain hope of finding Buffy, but he could see no sign of her.

"Buffy!" he croaked, gagging as his lungs filled with smoke.

Over the increasing howl of the flames, Angel thought he heard something coming from somewhere behind him. He turned swiftly and headed on his knees back towards the foyer. Sweat soaked his dress shirt, poured down his back and over his face. It was getting hotter by the second. He needed to find Buffy, if she was in the house, and get her out quick before the whole place was engulfed in flames.

As he crawled forward, Angel didn't allow himself to think about the fact that Buffy may not be inside. In the back of his mind, he knew that, given the situation, it was likely someone had torched his home and that that someone could have taken Buffy, or worse, but he wouldn't allow himself to think about it. If she was here, he had to find her.

"Buffy!" he called once more. Over the cough that threatened to overwhelm him, he heard a faint reply.

"Angel!"

The stairs. It had come from the direction of the staircase leading to the second floor. Buffy was still inside! "BUFFY!" he bellowed, forcing the sound to come out as loudly as possible.

"Ang-...Angel!"

Angel forced himself to his feet, eyes watering and lungs burning, He nearly tripped over the first riser. In a half-crawl, he rose the steps, hands feeling the smooth wood to keep his direction. At the contact with skin, he almost fell backwards in surprise. Overbalancing, he fell forward, collapsing on top of a prone body and slamming his head into something hard.

Head ringing from its collision with what he assumed was a wall, Angel groaned. A mirroring sound came from beneath him and he forced himself to roll away. What had happened? Everything was a little fuzzy. He knew, though, that someone was with him on the landing. Buffy! It had to be her, but the heavy smoke kept him from seeing much.

"Buffy!" he tried to say, but it came out more as a cough.

"Ang-," came the response, cut off by a harsh gagging sound.

The faint voice was feminine and could come from no one other than Buffy. Despite the dizziness threatening to overtake him, Angel pushed to his knees as his hands felt around him. He grasped an arm and wanted to sob in relief. He'd found Buffy! She was alive, though possibly not unharmed.

Crawling forward, using his hands to guide him, he got as close to her as possible. "We...have to...get...out of...her," he gasped out, breaths getting shallower.

"...trying...to...can't...see," Buffy replied in short, clipped words, her voice barely above a whisper.

Angel looked to his left, down what he was pretty sure the rest of the stairs and towards the door. They were only about thirty feet from safety, but their escape would not be easy. Nothing about climbing down approximately ten stairs through blinding smoke and rising heat was simple. To make matters worse, he could see the flames from the kitchen crawling down the hallway, closer to the front foyer. They needed to get out. Now.

Using all his strength, Angel reached forward and groped around until he had one arm under Buffy's back and the other under her knees. He pushed upwards, staggering under the strain. Normally, picking up Buffy would have be easy, but his muscles were burning, probably from lack of oxygen.

"Close...your eyes...gonna...get us...out," he ordered, leaning down to speak near what he thought was Buffy's ear.

"O...kay."

The wall was to his right, so Angel leaned in that direction until his shoulder made contact with the paneling. Using the wall as a guide, he descended the stairs quickly but carefully. The suffocating smoke hindered his breathing further under the strain of carrying Buffy, but he pushed forward. He was so close. Finally, his feet came into contact with the floor and he nearly stumbled to his knees, but he locked them together. Staggering the last few feet, he reached the door he'd left open.

Angel crashed into the porch railing after giving one last push to exit the burning house. Clean air filled his lungs and he coughed against the unexpected prize. In his arms, Buffy echoed the sound, her whole body shaking. All Angel wanted to do was fall to the ground and hold Buffy close, but they were still too near the burning structure.

With the last of his energy failing, Angel shoved away from the railing with his hip. He had just set foot on the top porch stair when he realized that there was a fire engine tearing down his driveway. It was of little consequence at the moment. He just wanted to get himself and Buffy farther away from the house. When his feet hit the soft sand, his knees gave out and he fell forward. At the last second, he twisted sideways so that he wouldn't crush Buffy as she clung to his neck.

Sprawled on the sand with Buffy on top of him, Angel gasped for air. His head twisted in the direction of the driveway and he saw the firetruck screech to a stop. Soon, men in fire gear were dashing everywhere, preparing hoses to fight the blaze. Behind the large truck, three dark sedans pulled to a stop. Out of one, Angel was surprised to see Gunn. He vaguely wondered what his sister's boyfriend was doing there, but thinking about that took too much energy. His eyes drifted shut, exhaustion slipping over him.

"Meow!"

The muffled noise caused Angel's eyes to shoot open. Was that a cat? He shook his head, trying to figure out what he'd heard. On top of him, Buffy wriggled around until she slid to the side on onto the sand. Angel manged to prop himself up on his elbows and looked at Buffy. When she reached down into her shirt, he was more than a little confused. The action made sense a second later when a furry little head popped out of the neck hole and gazed at Angel with frightened eyes. Of course! Shadow!

"I think...she's okay," Buffy said hoarsely, keeping the kitten in her shirt, but scratching her head with limp fingers.

"Are you...hurt?" he asked as he tried to get into a sitting position.

Buffy sucked in a breath then coughed violently. Tears streamed down her blackened cheeks from bloodshot eyes. "I don't...think...so. Hurts...to...breathe," she added.

"Angel!" came a shout from nearby. "Angel, man, are you okay?"

The worried call came from Gunn as the man ran towards them. Behind him, several paramedics were following at a slower pace, weighed down by equipment hanging from their shoulders. And behind them came another group, these guys in dark suits. Angel thought he recognized some of them from the meeting in Los Angeles with the FBI, but his eyes weren't at their best so he couldn't be sure.

"Angel?" Gunn asked again as he finally reached the pair on the beach.

"We're...fine. I think," Angel choked out.

"What-" Gunn started to question them about what had happened, but he was pushed aside.

"Excuse me, sir. We need to treat them immediately," a paramedic stated.

"Right, okay," agreed Gunn, though he was anxious to hear about whatever had gone on in Angel's house.

The first paramedic turned to Buffy and Angel. "Were either of you burned?" he began asking the standard questions in order to treat his two patients.

* * *

Charles Gunn stood a few feet away from the ambulance, conferring with some of his colleagues. The guy to his left was saying something, but Gunn's mind was elsewhere. More precisely, he was mentally kicking himself for not being prepared enough, for not protecting both Buffy and Angel. He tried to temper that knowledge with the fact that there had been no reason to suspect something bad would happen.

Chief Walker and Mayor Wilkins, the two people at the center of this investigation, had no reason to take retribution. Well, not in a specific sense. Those two had a penchant for doing bad things, but nothing about today's raid on the police station files should have set them off. He and the others on the investigation team had plotted their actions endlessly. They couldn't just go in and seize all files relating to Buffy Giles. That would have been a definite giveaway. So they had taken files relating to numerous cases and crimes. The action served two purposes, the first being that they would throw the focus off taking Buffy's files, and the second relating to the FBI's suspicion that if the police had covered one crime, they likely had covered others. If they reviewed other cases, it was entirely possibly they would find more infractions to add to the list of charges against their quarries.

Somewhere, somehow, the plan had gone wrong, and Gunn was kicking himself for it. Angel's house had been torched and Buffy and Angel had been in serious danger. Gunn had no proof the fire was arson, but he'd bet his new Jag that it was. The fire and today's seizure of police files were just too much of a coincidence. It had to have been deliberate. For what reason, he wasn't quite sure yet, but he intended to find out. In the meantime, he couldn't quite stop beating himself up for not putting a man on Angel's house to keep watch. What was he going to tell Fred? She was not going to be happy her brother had almost been killed.

"Excuse me," he said to the group around him before turning to go back to the ambulance. At the back of the vehicle, he stepped up next to one of the paramedics. "How are they?"

"Lucky," the paramedic answered. Gunn noticed his nametag said Riley F.

"Any serious injuries?" Gunn questioned, his eyes trained on the two patients in the ambulance.

"Not that I can see. Neither have any burns. It's mostly just smoke inhalation and irritation to the eyes. Buffy is a little worse off than her friend," Riley explained the results of his examination. "They'll need to go back to the hospital to get checked out, make sure there's not any lung damage, but I think they'll be fine. In any case, a couple hours on oxygen will be needed."

"Right." Gunn rubbed his forehead. That was going to be a definite complication. He pulled Riley aside. "Listen, we might have to work something out about that, but I've got to make a phone call. Before we work on that, though, I need to ask you to keep the woman's identity to yourself."

"Sure, uh, okay," Riley agreed, but seemed uneasy.

Placing a hand on the paramedics arm, Gunn put on his most serious face. "This is extremely important. A matter of life and death, if you want to call it that. No one at all can know she was here. Do you understand?"

Riley's eyes drifted to the young woman with soot-stained blonde hair who was huddled next to a much larger man. He couldn't help but wonder what she was involved in that put her in such danger. Was she in the Witness Protection Program, or was something going on here in Sunnydale? Riley wasn't sure. He had only moved here six months ago. He didn't want to see the woman hurt, though, so he would do as the agent named Gunn asked, even if it meant breaking a rule or two.

"Whatever you need me to do, I'll do," Riley told Gunn.

"Good, thanks. Is it okay if I go talk to them? I need to get some information about what happened here," Gunn informed him of his intentions.

"Sure. Just make sure they keep using the oxygen."

Gunn nodded at the request and left the man. In a few steps, he was standing at the back of the ambulance. Both Buffy and Angel looked battered and tired, but otherwise okay. Their faces were stained with soot, clothes blackened by it as well, and Buffy had a scratch on her arm. Gunn was just grateful that neither had sustained any burns.

The second paramedic, a woman named Tara, was attending to the cut on Buffy's arm. When she finished Gunn gave her a look and jerked his head. "Could you give us a few minutes?" Hesitant, the woman stared at her two patients and frowned. "Don't worry, I'll make sure they keep breathing the oxygen." he assured her.

"O-okay. I'll b-be right over there if you n-need me," Tara answered with a noticeable stutter in her voice that gave Gunn pause. Was she nervous about something? He eyed her critically but saw nothing to make him suspicious.

"How are you both holding up?" Gunn asked when the were finally alone.

"Been better," Angel grumbled

"Just peachy," Buffy moaned at the same time.

"Right. Kinda figured that." Leaning against the door, Gunn released an apologetic sigh. "I'm sorry. I should have been more careful. I should have had someone watching the house."

"It's not your fault," Angel relieved him of his guilt, or tried to. "None of us really thought anything would happen." He paused and then looked more seriously at his friend the FBI agent. "Do you have any idea yet what did exactly happen?"

"Not really," he admitted with a weary shrug. "I started to get a bad feeling when we seized the files at the police station and after. We didn't have taps on anyone's phones, couldn't get the warrants for it, but we were monitoring if they made any calls through cell phone logs. There was a jump in activity just after we got to the Sunnydale PD and afterwards."

"What do you mean?" Buffy jumped into the conversation.

"Just that after our arrival, there were a bunch of calls going between Walker, Mayor Wilkins and at least one other person. That wasn't sitting right with any of us," Gunn explained the events from earlier. "We were trying to trace the other number on the logs and the whole thing was just seeming more off so I was gonna head over here to keep an eye on Buffy. Just as I was about to leave, we caught a call to 911 about a fire."

"So that's why you got here at the same time as the fire truck," Angel concluded, remembering how he'd seen the dark sedans pull in behind the firemen.

"Yeah." Folding his arms over his chest, Gunn studied both of them. "I assume it was one of you who called for help."

"I didn't-"

"It was me," Buffy cut Angel off.

"Right. Which leads to my next question. What exactly happened here, and don't leave out any details," Gunn stated firmly, needing to make sure nothing was left out. It could be important later.

Buffy took a deep breath, then coughed. Her smoke-damaged lungs hadn't appreciated the effort. She pulled together her memory of the afternoon, though her brain was still a bit scrambled from everything that had happened. "I was doing some cleaning since there was nothing else to do. My mind was sorta elsewhere, thinking about everything. I'd just turned off the vacuum when there was this crash."

"Crash?" both Gunn and Angel interrupted.

"Yeah," she nodded, eyes narrowing. "Glass breaking. Honestly, I didn't think anything of it at first. I thought the kitten had gotten into something again. So I went looking for her, but when I got to the kitchen the curtains were on fire, the window was broken, and there was a bottle on the floor."

"A bottle?" Gunn said sharply. "What kind of bottle?"

"One of those cocktail-thingys, I think. I don't know what they're called."

"A Molotov Cocktail?" chipped in Angel.

"Right. That's it!" Buffy exclaimed. "One of those was on the floor below the curtains and they caught on fire."

"Arson," Gunn growled angrily. So he'd been right. Someone had taken retribution. The exact reason was yet to be determined. "What happened then?"

"I just sorta stood there for a minute. I mean, the house was on fire. I didn't even really have time to think what that meant because I knew I had to try to put it out." Buffy shivered at the remembered feeling of helplessness. "I was filling a big pot with water to throw on the curtains when there was another crash coming from I thought the living area. I didn't even bother to look. I knew what I'd find, so I grabbed the phone and dialed 911. There was no way I could do anything with two places on fire."

"How come you didn't get out right away? The fire department guys said you and Angel were just exiting the house when they arrived," Gunn inquired about the discrepancy.

"I couldn't leave without Shadow. I went looking for her and finally found her under my bed upstairs, but she was petrified and wouldn't come out." Buffy pointed at the cut on her arm. "She did that when I managed to grab her. When I got back to the hallway, it was filling up with smoke. I could barely see and it was getting hard to breathe. I was about halfway down the stairs when Angel found me."

"So you weren't home?" Gunn asked Angel for clarification.

"No." Angel then went on to explain how he'd had to go in to work for a little while. He told them both how he'd asked Willow to keep in touch with Buffy by phone since he was so busy, and about how Willow had called him saying she wasn't getting any answer at the beach house. "I rushed right out and drove to the house," he concluded.

"Seems like you got there just in time." Gunn squeezed Angel's shoulder, sharing without words the knowledge that they'd escaped. Barely.

Just then, a furry black head poked out of the neckline of Buffy's shirt and stared owlishly at the assembled group. Gunn peered at it curiously. "You do know you have a cat in your shirt, right?"

"Oh." Buffy blushed and tugged Shadow out of the safe cocoon she'd been in. "I didn't have anywhere else to put her."

Beyond them, they heard a commotion and all three heads turned to look toward the driveway. They couldn't see anything, but soon heard someone shouting.

"Buffy! Buffy!"

"Daddy," Buffy whispered, recognizing the strained bellow.

"Here," Angel took the kitten from Buffy and gave her a nudge. She stood shakily and moved beyond the ambulance doors. It took only a few seconds for Giles to spot her and then he was at her side, pulling her into his arms.

Angel knew there were still strained emotions between them, but at that moment, they didn't matter. He was still Buffy's father and she latched onto him tightly. The shudders working through her body told Angel she was crying. That was not unexpected. She'd been through a lot today.

For the first time, Angel had the chance to gather his bearings. He raked a hand through his hair, his eyes never leaving Buffy. So close. He'd come so close to losing her. She may have gotten out of the house on her own, but what if she hadn't? What if she'd collapsed on the stairs and he hadn't gotten there in time? He should never have left her!

Before Angel could fall deeper into second guesses, he shook himself out of it. They were both fine. That was all that mattered. But as he sat there gazing at Buffy clutching her father, he knew that things were about to change drastically. Everything from her past was about to come to head. He didn't need Gunn to tell him that. He knew. Angel wondered where that would leave him.

"I'm guessin' that's her father," Gunn's voice intruded on Angel's thoughts.

"Yeah."

* * *

Wrapped in her father's arms, Buffy couldn't seem to stop the tears that trailed down her cheeks. Everything was overwhelming her and when she'd seen her father racing toward her, all she'd wanted was to have him hold her and tell her everything would be all right, like he'd done when she was a little girl. All the distance and angry feelings between them ceased to exist. At least for the time being.

"Are you okay?" Giles whispered, his face buried in her dirty hair.

Buffy nodded. "Yeah. Just a little smoky."

"Thank God!" he hugged her tighter, needing the reassuring feeling of presence. "When Angel's assistant told me he'd rushed out, I knew something was wrong." Just then, Giles looked up and saw Angel and a man he didn't know approaching. He glared at Angel, finding the need to blame someone. "What the hell happened?"

"Excuse me, sir. I believe I can answer that," Gunn interjected.

"And who, may I ask, are you?" Giles demanded.

"Charles Gunn, sir." He flashed the badge attached to his belt. "FBI."

"FBI? But what-"

Giles didn't get a chance to finish his question as another set of shouts sounded from nearby. The calls this time came from Willow and Spike, who were dashing across the driveway towards them.

Gunn placed a hand on his firearm and eyed the newcomers uneasily. Once they were closer, he realized he recognized them as two of the people who had accompanied Buffy to the meeting in Los Angeles. "Those are two of your friends, right?"

"Yes," Buffy answered just seconds before she was swept up in a hug by a frantic Willow.

After assuring everyone that both Buffy and Angel were relatively unharmed, Gunn ushered them back towards the ambulance. Both paramedics, Tara and Riley, had been giving him unhappy stares over the fact that their patients weren't following orders by breathing the prescribed oxygen. Once he had the two settled back on the seats in the vehicle with the masks attached to their faces, Gunn took the lead on explaining the events that had led to that point.

Giles' displeasure at everything was obvious. He hadn't wanted to involve the FBI in the first place. All he'd wanted was for Buffy to remain safe. Still, he remained silent, but didn't hesitate to glare at the people he felt responsible for putting his daughter's life at risk.

Gunn had just gotten to the point in the story where he'd come on scene when his cell phone rang. "Excuse me," he said, pulling the device off the clip on his belt and turning his back. He kept his voice low and no one could tell what he was saying, but when he turned back around two minutes later, there was a strange look of triumph on his face.

"We caught the guy who torched Angel's house as he tried to haul ass outta town. He's currently being transported to FBI headquarters in Los Angeles."

* * *

TBC 


	30. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

* * *

Nearly fourteen hours after the fire at Angel's house, Buffy was restlessly pacing on the soft, cream-colored carpet inside a downtown Los Angeles hotel suite. She couldn't seem to do anything but pace from one end of the room to the other. Considering the events of the past day, she should be exhausted, and she was tired. Sleep was just utterly impossible. There was too much going on, too much to think about.

After the fire had been dealt with the day before, Gunn had pulled every string possible to keep the situation under wraps. The FBI didn't want anyone to know about her existence until it was completely necessary. As a result, they had called in a helicopter to transfer her and Angel to a hospital in Los Angeles. It was the best way to keep her identity secret. If she'd gone to a hospital in Sunnydale, someone was bound to figure out who she was. In Los Angeles, the FBI had more control.

She and Angel hadn't had to stay long for treatment. The hospital had checked them over to make sure there weren't any serious injuries from the smoke inhalation, which there weren't, and kept them on oxygen for a little while. By mid-evening, they were released and checked into a hotel in LA under false names with orders from the FBI to stay put and not talk to anyone.

Her father had not been happy when Gunn asked him to stay in Sunnydale. Giles had been ready to leap into his car to be by Buffy's side as she was checked out by the doctors in LA. If he had done that, though, if he'd gone to LA and stayed there, it would have made the situation more suspicious than it already was. Giles eventually understood that. As did Willow and the others, but they weren't happy about it.

So it was just Buffy and Angel staying in the rather cushy hotel suite. Oh, and the guard posing as a bellhop outside in the hall. But it was just them inside, and had been just them since they were dropped off the night before. Oddly enough, they hadn't really talked much. Angel had insisted Buffy go straight to bed and said he was doing the same. Buffy went, but sleep never really came. She'd only stared up at the ceiling, thinking about the fire, and what it seemed to mean.

Though no one had actually said it, Buffy got a clear impression that everything was about to come down. The fire was by no means a good thing, but at the same time, it seemed to have set the ball in motion. From what Gunn had said yesterday in Sunnydale, the arsonist was under arrest. And she had a feeling that the FBI expected all the pieces to fall into place with that one capture.

God, what if that was true? she mumbled silently. What if all of this, all of the pain she'd lived with for the last seven years, was finally going to be over? Even if the people who had murdered her family, and tormented her for years were brought to justice, Buffy didn't lie to herself. The pain would never really go away. She would never be able to forget all that had happened in Sunnydale.

Her Mom. Dawn. Owen. The rape. Everything after it. The four years spent in seclusion. No, she'd never be able to ever put all of that out of her mind. It would always be a part of her.

A flicker of a memory flashed before her eyes. She saw her family as they'd lain in the den of her house, blood spattered around them. The image wasn't clear. It was clouded by a surreal fog that made everything fuzzy but did nothing to hide the grotesque scene. A shiver worked through her body, making Buffy rub her arms.

"Are you cold?" Angel asked, jostling Buffy out of the past. She'd almost forgotten he was sitting at the breakfast bar only a few feet away.

"No," she shrugged restlessly. "I was just...thinking."

Angel said nothing. He sensed Buffy wasn't in the mood to talk at the moment. She was wound tighter the a Hollywood starlet's enhanced face. Not that he was any less tense. Everything they'd been working for the past few weeks was happening. The arms of the law were about to close in around the creeps who had ruined Buffy's life. The truth was finally about to be told.

And then Buffy would be free.

For now, Angel was trying to ignore what all that might mean.

"When is Gunn going to get here?" Buffy growled as she paced from one end of the little living room in their suite to the other.

"Probably soon," he answered, wishing he could give her a more definite answer.

They were waiting for Gunn to arrive to give them an update on the case. All they really knew was that someone had set fire to Angel's house, and that the FBI believed they'd arrested the man responsible. Beyond that, they were in the dark as to what had happened afterwards. That was why Buffy was so anxiously pacing the room. Angel would be too if he felt he had the energy for it.

Angel could tell his response didn't please Buffy. She desperately wanted to know what was going on. He hoped Gunn arrived before she wore a hole in the carpet.

A solid knock sounded from the door just then and Angel almost sighed in relief. Finally. He stood and walked to the door. Surprisingly, Buffy stopped her pacing, but remained rooted in her spot. Tension lined her face, he noticed when he glanced at her. As much as Buffy wanted answers, he knew she had to be nervous. So much hinged on what happened from this point on.

Checking the peep-hole first, Angel saw that it was indeed Gunn. He felt his gut clench as he opened the door and let Gunn into the suite.

"I brought some coffee and bagels in case you guys hadn't eaten yet," Gunn held up the bag he had in his left hand and rattled it. "Why don't we go sit over there," he nodded to the conversation area made up of several plush sofas around a black lacquer coffee table.

After handing out the coffees, Gunn took a seat and crossed his legs. "I won't beat around the bush since you probably want to know what's going on."

"Thanks," Buffy breathed out heavily. She didn't know if she could wait much longer.

"I'll start at the beginning, then" he began. "Like I said yesterday, several suspicious phone calls went out from Wilkins and Walker. There were three to an unknown cell phone number. While I was at your house dealing with the fire, we had men trying to trace the number. They found that it belonged to a known thug so an A.P.B. was immediately issued for the guy. As luck would have it, a California state trooper spotted the guy's car on a highway leading out of Sunnydale."

"Did he put up a fight?" Angel inquired, thinking that catching the guy had been an extremely lucky break. He wasn't complaining, though. It was about time something went Buffy's way.

"No," Gunn shook his head. "He pulled right over and surrendered himself. The trooper held him in his car until one of our agents could take him into custody.

Gunn leaned back against the sofa and took a second to stretch his stiff shoulders. He was exhausted after having been up the whole night working. "We were worried that he would lawyer-up and keep his mouth shut. Unfortunately for him, we found the makings for the fire bombs in his car. Pretty much meant he was dead to rights."

"Knowing he was screwed," he continued, allowing for a slight dramatic pause. "He sang like a bird."

"You're kidding!" Angel exclaimed. Two breaks! Could they possibly be this fortunate?

"Not in the least," Gunn gave Angel a predatory smile. "He spilled everything he knew, and believe me when I say, he had a lot to tell."

"Was...was...," Buffy stumbled on the words. She took a deep breath, steadying her nerves. "Was he the one who killed my family?"

"No," answered Gunn apologetically. He knew how much she wanted the person who committed the actual act to be caught. "He's just an underling, for the most part. But he's got a pretty good idea who was hired to do it."

"So Wilkins and Walker really were the ones who ordered it," Angel mused. Even though he'd known the truth, it was strange hearing it all out loud.

"We're still working on putting all the details together. The guy who torched your house knows enough to keep us on that path." Gunn took a gulp of his coffee. He hoped the caffeine would give him at least a small boost. "But...unless this guy is lying his pants off, we do know that it was Mayor Wilkins who ordered your house to be crispy fried."

"Bastard," Angel muttered. Buffy could have been killed in that fire!

"I agree," concurred Gunn emphatically. "So I thought you would want to know that we have issued an arrest warrant for Mayor Richard Wilkins III on arson and related charges."

"That's it? Just for the fire?" Buffy's voice was almost frantic as she spoke. They couldn't just arrest him for that! What about what he did to her family?

"For now, but believe me, more will come," Gunn assured her. "Right now, that's the most solid charge we can go for. Our guys are still working on the rest. They've only gone through some of the files we seized from Sunnydale PD, but so far, there appears to be confirmation that the murders of your family weren't handled appropriately. Once we get everything put together, we'll know more."

"So what happens next?" Angel inquired, leaning forward to study Gunn.

"Right now, another agent is working on getting the arsonist's sworn statement of everything he knows about Wilkins and the police chief. We want it all on paper what he knows," Gunn laid out. "Someone is on their way to Sunnydale to pick up Wilkins and bring him to LA. I'll probably be questioning him later. We're also going to bring in Chief Walker for questioning. We can't arrest him just yet, but he seems to be the lesser of the two. If we put the pressure on him right, we may be able to get him to spill all he knows, too."

"Do you think they'll all go to jail?" Buffy wanted to know. She dearly hoped they would. They needed to pay for what they'd done!

"I wish I could promise you everything would go like clockwork," said Gunn. "We're pretty confident we're building a good case, but there's always a way for something to go wrong. We'll do our best to make sure that doesn't happen."

"Thanks," Buffy imparted softly.

"You're welcome." Standing, Gunn set down his coffee. "I need to get back to headquarters so I'll be there when Wilkins is brought in."

Buffy stood as well. She twisted her fingers together, debating whether she should ask Gunn the question that was weighing on her. Would he let her do it if she asked? She wouldn't know unless she spoke up.

"Gunn...I, um...there's something I'm hoping you can do. Actually two things..."

* * *

Five long, slow days passed before Gunn was able to fill the first of Buffy's requests. Both Angel and Gunn had tried to talk her out of what she wanted to do, but she'd been adamant. She'd told them it was something that she needed to do, as well reminding them that she was an adult and could make her own decisions. Angel could find little fault with her arguments. That didn't stop him from worrying about her.

The last week had been hard on her. Despite the fact that they'd been staying in a hotel suite together, and that they were around each other almost twenty-four hours a day, they hadn't spent much time doing any serious talking. Most of their waking hours were spent watching movies on the hotel's pay-per-view, or on the phone with anxious friends and family.

Giles, Willow, and the others from Sunnydale were under strict orders to remain where they were and to act like everything was normal. The only way they could contact Buffy was via the telephone, and the same went for Angel. He'd spoken to his sister, Fred, a few days earlier to assure her he was fine. She'd wanted the details of what was going on, but he'd had to put her off. Until Gunn gave him the okay, Angel had to keep the situation under wraps. Fred hadn't been happy with him about that.

All of that would likely change after today. What Buffy planned to do would make everything about her life, and what she'd suffered through, known. Well, not directly, but once she was through, it wouldn't be long before everyone else found out.

Angel watched Buffy as she stood at the window in one of the waiting rooms of the FBI Headquarters in Los Angeles. She hadn't said a word since they'd been told to wait in the drab, almost-empty room. All she had done was stare out the window. Angel wished there was something he could do to ease her nerves, but there wasn't anything. He would just simply have to be there for her if she needed him. She would be fine, though. She was strong.

When the door opened and Gunn stepped into the room, Buffy's head whipped around and her fingers tensed on the windowsill. "Are you sure you want to do this?" Gunn asked in as gentle a tone as possible. He couldn't imagine how she would deal with what she was about to do.

"Yes," she replied replied firmly as she turned and steeled her shoulders. There was no way anyone was going to talk her out of this. She HAD to do it.

"Okay," Gunn nodded once. "We're ready." Swiveling, he strode out of the room, leaving Buffy and Angel to follow behind him.

In less than a minute, Gunn led them into another room with a glass pane giving a view into another, smaller room. Several agents were milling around in the main room, and all eyed Buffy as she stood just inside the door. Gunn hesitated, and looked to Buffy again. "Do you want me to come in with you?"

Buffy opened her mouth to say 'no', but realized she didn't want to go in there by herself. "Yes, please."

"Okay. Let's do it. Just remember you can leave anytime you want," he told her before walking to a second door that led into the smaller room.

Angel could only watch as the door was pulled open and Buffy took a deep breath before following Gunn inside. He quickly turned his eyes to the glass pane that would allow him to see everything that happened on the other side. If that bastard did anything more to hurt Buffy, he would pay.

Standing behind Gunn, Buffy flinched as the door slammed closed behind her. Gunn's large form kept her hidden from view momentarily, but that would eventually end. She would have to stand on her own all too soon.

"I trust there is a valid reason you are still keeping me locked up in this filthy, germ-infested room, Agent Gunn," a man's voice spoke out loudly.

The sound made Buffy shudder. She had the tempting thought of turning and fleeing, but pushed it away. She wasn't a coward. She could do this. Taking one more deep breath, she side-stepped Gunn and allowed herself to be seen.

"What...what the hell...what's going on here!" Mayor Richard Wilkins stuttered as he leapt to his feet. "You're dead!"

Gunn viewed Buffy for a moment. "Nope, I think she's alive."

Silence descended as Wilkins' jaw snapped shut. Gunn could almost see the thoughts racing in the man's head. And he had a pretty good idea of what he would say next.

"Agent Gunn, I want you to arrest this woman! She's a known murderer!"

Yup, Gunn was right. Just as he'd expected. He leaned casually against the wall, enjoying this more than he should. "Murder, huh? I assume you mean the deaths of three members of the Giles family? Interesting thing about that. We have evidence that implicates you and your associates in their murders. So guess what that means? You're the murderer, not Miss Giles here."

"That's ridiculous! I'm a public official!" Wilkins roared.

"Sit down, and shut up!" Gunn ordered, snapping to attention. "Miss Giles has something to say, and then she is leaving. So you will keep your mouth shut until she's done."

Oddly enough, Wilkins complied, but Gunn had a feeling it had more to do with the shock of the situation than the command he'd given. "Go ahead, Buffy," he gave a quick nod.

Hands trembling, Buffy stepped forward and stared Mayor Wilkins squarely in the eyes. She didn't quite know what she wanted to say, but it would come to her.

After another moment's silence, she spoke.

"I know what you did, to my family, to me, to my friends. There's a word for people like you: evil. And someday, maybe soon, you'll end up where all the other murdering bastards go: to hell. I'll do everything in my power to see that you are never free again, that you'll never be able to hurt another person like you did the people I love. I hope you enjoy prison and that you have a nice roommate named Bubba who'll make you his playmate," she threw in at the end just because it made her smile to think of him being treated like someone's bitch.

Finished doing what she needed to do, Buffy swiftly pivoted and headed toward the door.

"You better watch you're back, missy! You'll pay for this insolence!" Wilkins shouted at her back.

As she left the room, she heard Gunn say, "That's not a threat, is it? That's not smart, Richie-boy."

The moment Buffy made into the outer room, Angel was at her side. "You did really good," he said and pulled her into a tight hug, sensing she needed it.

Buffy latched on to him and held tightly, her body still shaking over the encounter. She felt liberated, though. She'd faced her past and one of the men who had ruined her life and taken her family away from her. It was like a weight had lifted off her back, making her feel lighter than she had in years.

"I wasn't sure I could do it once I got in there," she murmured against his shoulder.

"But you did, and stood up to him. I'm really proud of you," he whispered back, not wanting the others in the room to hear their private conversation.

"Thanks." She pulled back and smiled slightly at him "I'm glad I did it."

As she stepped out of Angel's arms, Gunn reentered the room, leaving a pacing Wilkins behind. "You did great, Buffy," he relayed, giving her a slight pat on the shoulder. "Ready for round two?"

Rolling her shoulders and blowing out a breath, she walked toward the door. "Yep." She was ready for anything, now. It was time to face door number two. So she followed Gunn to the interrogation room where Sunnydale Police Chief Walker was being held. One down, one to go.

* * *

Two hours later, Buffy and Angel were back in their hotel suite with Gunn. The meeting with Chief Walker had gone similar to the one with Wilkins. Except for the fact that Walker had seemed absolutely stunned to find her among the living. His face had bleached white at the sight of her and he'd nearly fallen off his chair. Gunn had a feeling the meeting would serve two purposes. One: Buffy would get some much needed closure. And two: the honorable Chief Walker had a lot to think about. Gunn hoped the man made wise decisions.

"It's not such a great idea to go back to Sunnydale," Gunn said to the pair sitting at the little breakfast bar. "Once the press gets a hold of this story, they'll be all over you."

"I know," Angel sighed, thinking about the mess that was to come. "But we both need to go back."

"I want to see my father and my friends," Buffy added softly, her mind still on the two encounters she'd had at the FBI headquarters.

"All right," Gunn relented, not liking the idea. "Just remember to not say anything to the reporters. Tell them 'no comment' or something. They don't need to know anything we don't want them to know."

"Okay," they both agreed.

"And try to keep out of the public eye for a while. We're still trying to round up all of the Mayor's lackey's and I wouldn't want to see anything happen to either of you," Gunn issued another order.

"Do you think there will be trouble?" Angel asked, tensing at the thought.

"It's possible, but not likely. Wilkins is the leader of this ring, and he knows we'll be watching him closely." Twisting his wrist, Gunn looked at his watch just as a knock sounded on the door. "Right on time.

Striding over to the door, he peeked through the spy-hole to confirm the visitor then turned the knob. He greeted the guest and allowed him to enter the room. When the door was shut again, he led the man to the silent pair on the other side of the living area.

"This is Agent Graham Miller. He'll be accompanying you to Sunnydale and staying with you until we're sure that there won't be any revenge from Wilkins," he explained the presence of the other agent.

"Staying with us?" Buffy mumbled as a sudden though occurred to her. "I don't even know where I'll be staying." Angel's house had been damaged in the fire.

"We can't go back to my house yet," confirmed Angel. "The fire wasn't able to do much damage, but some repairs need to be made before we can go back."

"I took the liberty of speaking to you father, Buffy," Gunn responded and shrugged when Buffy's eyes narrowed at him. "It's the best place for you to go right now. It's away from the public, and there's room to bring an agent in. He's expecting you tonight."

Angel took Buffy's hand and held it in his. "You don't have to go back there if you don't want to."

She didn't answer right away as she thought about the notion. Finally she shook her head. "No, it's okay. I need to go back there sometime. And it would probably be good to talk to my Dad." She'd faced two of her demons already. Now she needed to make peace with her father. They needed to talk about all that had happened and get on with their lives. She may not be happy with what he did, but he was still her father and she loved him regardless. Just like he'd still loved her when he'd thought she had murdered his wife and two other children.

"Good. It's settled then." Gunn pulled out a card and handed it to Angel. "That has all my numbers on it if you need to contact me in an emergency. Graham will be driving you back to Sunnydale as soon as your ready."

"We don't have much to pack, so we'll be ready soon" Angel told the agent.

"Take your time," Graham replied

"It'll only take me a few minutes to throw my stuff in a bag," Buffy suddenly said and nearly jumped off her stool. She hadn't been all that anxious to go home, but now she was.

"Are you okay?" asked Angel, staring at her with a frown on his face.

"Fine," she mumbled more to herself than to Angel. "There's just one more thing I want to do today." One more thing to make peace with her past.

* * *

After a quiet drive from Los Angeles, the car carrying Buffy, Angel and Agent Graham Miller entered the Sunnydale city limits. Instead of turning left and heading in the direction of the Giles house, the car went right, heading to an alternate destination. They would arrive at the Giles' eventually. There was just one stop to make first.

Beside Angel in the back seat, Buffy sat watching the scenery passing by her window. Most of it was familiar, but hadn't been seen in many years. Other than the trip to Santa Monica with Angel, and the hectic helicopter trip to LA after the fire, she had not seen any parts of Sunnydale besides her father's house, the beach, and then later, Angel's home. It was strange to be seeing it all again.

"We can do this tomorrow," Angel broke the silence in the car. Buffy looked exhausted. He was worried that she was pushing herself too hard.

"No, today," she answered simply and went back to staring out the window.

Within minutes, Agent Miller was pulling the car into a parking lot set in a quiet area on the southern end of town. He shut off the engine and twisted his body to look at his passengers. "I'll wait here. Take your time," he relayed, seeming to understand the gravity of what Buffy had decided to do once back in Sunnydale.

"Thanks," Buffy responded softly and opened the door to step out of the car. Though she hadn't asked him to, Angel followed. She was grateful for his presence, but she wanted to do this alone. So after she reached the grass at the edge of the parking lot, she looked at Angel. "Could you wait here?"

"Sure," he gave her a small smile, telling her without words that he'd be right there when she got done.

Buffy mumbled thanks and walked away, staring down at the piece of paper in her hand with the directions she'd gotten from Willow by phone before leaving Los Angeles. It didn't take her long to reach the place she sought. Her heart clutched when she found herself gazing down at three headstones that bore the names of her mother, brother and sister, none of which she'd ever been able to see before.

Dropping to her knees before the middle grave – that of her mother – Buffy felt tears gathering in her eyes. She didn't try to stop them from falling. It would have been impossible.

"Hi, Mom," she began, her voice just above a whisper. "I'm sorry I haven't been here before. I would have come if I could." She paused to swipe at the tears falling steadily down her cheeks. "I miss you so much, and I'm so sorry that this happened to you. Willow and everyone tell me that what happened to you wasn't my fault, and somewhere inside I know that, but I still feel responsible. This wouldn't have happened if it weren't for me. I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry and I love you."

Her eyes shifted to the right, to Dawn's grave. "Dawnie...you used to drive me nuts. Always following me around and wanting to borrow stuff. I miss walking into my room and seeing you digging in my closet. I never thought I'd miss things like that, but I do. And who's gonna watch E.R. with me and ogle the cute doctors?"

Sniffling heavily, Buffy's eyes moved to the last headstone. "You never got to go to Europe and back-pack through fifteen countries, did you? I remember how much you wanted to do that, but Dad was making you work and save up to pay for it yourself. I was kind of jealous that you were going to do something so adventurous, but I was always happy in Sunnydale." She sighed. "Now this place is just a ton of bad memories."

Glancing at all three graves, Buffy bowed her head, tears falling to the ground below her. "I love you all and I miss you."

With one final look at those she'd loved and lost, Buffy stood and returned to Angel. As he had back at the FBI headquarters after she'd confronted Mayor Wilkins, he pulled her into his arms and held her tightly. Her heavy sobs shook both their bodies and her tears soaked the front of Angel's shirt, but he didn't mind. There was little Buffy could do that would offend him

He would hold her as long as she needed to be held. He'd let her cry as long as she needed to. And he'd been there for her as long as she wanted him to. He wasn't sure he'd be able to leave her even if she asked.

* * *

TBC 


	31. Chapter 30

_AN: Well, here it is. The last chapter. I hope you'll all enjoy it! (more extensive AN will come at the end)_

_Isis FG_

* * *

**Chapter 30

* * *

**

one month later

The telephone rang and Buffy turned to glare at the evil contraption. She hated the damn phone! So far today she was pretty sure it had rung at least ten times. And it was only noon! Thank goodness for Caller ID or she would have to deal with answering it all the time. That was something she definitely did not want to do.

The story of Sunnydale's Mayor, Police Chief, and a young woman named Buffy Giles had broken in the media two days after Buffy and Angel returned to Sunnydale. The fact that the Mayor of Sunnydale had been taken in and questioned by the FBI, and charges had been filed against him was big news. Combine that with the Police Chief also being involved, and the story would have commanded coverage in itself. Unfortunately, a leak in the FBI office added more fodder for the journalists by spilling the details about the murders of the Giles family, and the movie-plot-like involvement of the remaining Giles offspring.

Since then the media – TV, print, radio – had launched a full-scale assault at Buffy, wanting any tid bit of information they could find. They camped out near the Giles house, tried to sneak onto the property, called all hours of the day, and whatever else they could think of. Giles was forced to hire guards out of Los Angeles to keep the press from charging the house. Whenever the phone rang, they left it go – having disconnected the answering machine – and only answered if the Caller ID showed it was someone they wanted to talk to.

So Buffy found herself being held prisoner. Still. Again. Whichever. All that mattered was that she didn't leave the house. If she did, it would be ugly. The media was dying to talk to the woman who brought down Sunnydale's mayor and police chief. Who'd been raped and saw no justice. Who'd had her family killed and been called responsible. Who'd been thought dead for four years. Buffy couldn't exactly blame them for their interest. It didn't mean she had any desire to talk to them.

In the end, it all meant Buffy was trapped in her house again. This time, though, it was by her own choice. She could go out if she wanted, but she chose not to. If avoiding the media meant staying inside, then she'd gladly do it. She just wished it wasn't an issue period. But it was, so she remained at her father's house and tried to untwist the mess that was her life.

A month had passed since her name had truly been cleared, and the people responsible for killing her family had been charged. That by no means implied that chapter of her life was over and closed. The FBI was still trying to put all the information together and build their case. There was still the trial to come as well. Much to Buffy's relief, both Wilkins and Walker were being held in jail without bail until their trials were over. The judge had found them to be a threat to society if allowed their freedom. Buffy was grateful for their incarceration. It was one less worry for her, though Gunn warned her that a powerful man like Richard Wilkins had many connections. So far, the evil man hadn't tried anything.

There was also still the worry that they wouldn't be convicted of all the charges against them. Wilkins could certainly afford a good lawyer, and some people just had a knack for weaseling themselves out of trouble. Gunn didn't seem to think that could happen. They had an ace in the hole, as he liked to say.

The ace being Police Chief Philip Walker. Buffy's visit to him at the FBI offices a month ago seemed to have scared the man senseless. The realization that Buffy was alive and spilling her story made Walker follow suit. He'd apparently opened his mouth and hadn't shut up. Buffy didn't know yet what all he'd said. Gunn had only told her the man was talking and saying a lot. She was anxious to know more.

Feet treading on the floor jerked Buffy from her thoughts, and she looked up from her magazine as Angel stepped into the room. A smile instantly lit her face. She was becoming so used to having Angel around all the time that she didn't know what she would do once he moved back into his own house. He could have done it already. The fire hadn't damaged much, and it was still livable, but with the media tracking him too, and the danger from Wilkins still somewhat present, Gunn felt it better that he stay at the Giles house. Willow and Spike spent most of their time at the house as well.

The four of them, along with Xander at times, used their free hours to simply hang out. Angel still had his job, but Giles saw to it that most of the work could be done from the house. Willow and Spike had to go into their internet cafe a few times a week, but they had a manager for now so that they could stay away and keep the press out of their business. So they spent their time playing board games or cards, watching movies, or just talking. Buffy enjoyed the care-free moments greatly.

She glanced at Angel out of the corner of her eye as he came to sit on the side of her bed where she was sitting reading the current issue of _Cosmo._ Her heart sighed at the simple sight of him. He was truly a beautiful man. Though she accepted that knowledge, it still made her edgy. She knew there was a certain chemistry between them. It was strange and new, but she realized its existence. She just did not have any idea what to do about it, or if she could handle doing anything about it.

Other than the one kiss they'd shared, and a few caring hugs, their...relationship was only as friends. At times she felt as if Angel were watching her as if he wanted more. Willow seemed to think Angel had deeper feelings for Buffy as well. If he did, he kept them close to the vest. Buffy was a little grateful for that. She cared about him, definitely. He was kind, sincere, and gentle. And she was certainly grateful for all he'd done for her. It was just that the idea of intimacy scared her thoroughly.

Over the past few weeks she'd wondered what would happen once her life belonged to her again. Angel had come into her world as her savior. That task was almost done now. Would he fade away as if he'd never been there? Buffy didn't think so – or at least she hoped not, but she didn't know what would happen. Would they simply remain friends? Would he get frustrated at her fears and push her away? Buffy didn't know and she was hesitant to ask him. For now, she just wanted to enjoy his presence and his friendship.

"Hi," she finally greeted him.

"Hey," he smiled back at her. "Anything interesting in your magazine."

Buffy shrugged. "Not really. Just the usual girl-talk stuff."

"Oh?" he teased, one eyebrow raised.

"Yup. Nothing good," Buffy quickly replied. She wasn't about to tell him that she'd been reading an article about how to 'Kiss Your Guy Senseless'. She sighed. If only she had the nerve to try out some of the techniques.

Angel held back the grin threatening to break out. He knew the kinds of things printed in _Cosmo._ He wouldn't embarrass Buffy, though. She was enjoying being a young woman for a change. It wasn't his place to tease her too much.

"I talked to Gunn just a few minutes ago," he said instead, referring to the phone call he'd been on just before coming to Buffy's room.

"What did he say?" she asked eagerly, wanting an update on the case.

"He'll be coming down to Sunnydale in a few hours to tell us all the details. I guess they've put together a lot of the story in the last few days," he explained, anxious himself to know more about what had been going on with the case against the mayor and the police chief.

"Oh, okay." Buffy twisted her hands nervously in her lap. "I really want to know, but at the same time, I'm nervous to hear it all."

"Don't worry," he assured her, taking one of her hands and holding it gently. "Everything will be fine. And besides, Gunn didn't sound worried or upset about the case. I'm sure it's going well."

"I know. It's just soo..."

"I understand." He squeezed her hand, wondering yet again where she found all the strength to deal with everything. "Why don't we make it a little more fun and less formal? Willow and Spike will be here tonight, and so will your father. We can call Xander, too, and cook hot dogs and hamburgers on the grill."

Buffy smiled, liking the idea. It would almost be like a party, with all her friends there with her. "I'd like that."

"Good. Then that's what we'll do. I'll ask Willow to pick up some food on her way over," he pondered the details. "Maybe Gunn can pick up Fred and bring her down with him."

"That'd be cool!" Buffy agreed whole-heartedly. She'd met Angel's sister three weeks ago when Fred had come to Sunnydale to see her brother and to talk about everything that had gone on. Buffy'd liked the woman, finding her genuine and sweet.

"Okay, I'll go make some calls and arrange everything," Angel told her, standing from the bed.

"Thanks."

Buffy was still smiling as Angel walked out of the room. There weren't words to describe how much she enjoyed the freedoms she had now. She could call her friends and see them whenever she wanted. She could sit out on the deck and have a barbecue. There wasn't any reason to hide anymore. Well...she was hiding from the press, but that was a different story.

No sooner had Angel left her room than her father poked his head in. It was kind of strange to see him just pop by. Almost as strange as it was being back in her old bedroom, which she'd decided to return to, no longer wanting to be tucked away in the attic now that it wasn't necessary.

She gazed at her father and felt mostly love for him. They had talked quite a bit since she'd returned home. Things weren't perfect, but they were better. At times she still felt a little bitter, but if she were honest, she couldn't exactly blame him for what he had thought of her. She'd been set up for the murders and her father had been under a lot of stress. On some level, she could understand why he'd believed she'd done it. The hurt was still there, but Buffy was trying to get past it. Giles was, after all, the only blood-family she had left.

"You said earlier you wanted to speak with me Buffy?" he questioned, taking a step into the room.

He still felt wary at times around her. So much had occurred between them. If only...he sighed. He couldn't change what he'd done years ago. Couldn't take back what he'd thought. His only hope was that Buffy had forgiven him. In all honestly, Giles wasn't sure what he'd have done differently. All he'd wanted was to protect his daughter. At least it seemed as though she didn't hate him.

"Yeah. Could, um...could you close the door." Buffy wanted to keep this conversation private. She'd been thinking about it for two weeks now, trying to decide what she wanted.

"Of course," he agreed and shut the door before stepping closer to the bed. "What's on your mind?"

Buffy chewed lightly on her lower lip. How should she start this conversation? And would her father go along with it?

"I've, um...I've been thinking...about what I want to do...after...ya know, once this is mostly...done..."

* * *

"This was a great idea!" Willow exclaimed with a sigh as she sank into one of the lounge chairs on the back patio of the Giles house. 

"Bad day at work?" Angel asked from where he was sitting at the wrought iron table a few feet away.

"Not really," Willow shrugged, lowering her sunglasses against the glare from the setting sun. "It was just busy. Aside from the reporters who try to sneak in, everyone in town wants to come in and gawk, or say they were part of...everything."

"Bloody wankers!" Spike cursed as he stood at the grill with Giles. "They seem to forget what big fans they were of the mayor."

"The wonders of selective memory," Giles concurred, thinking about how badly his family had been treated by the people of Sunnydale after Buffy had been raped.

"You're gonna burn the bloody burgers, Rupert!" Spike jabbed Giles with his spatula.

The comment led to a spirited argument between the two about the proper way to cook on a grill. Buffy, Angel, Willow, and Xander could only shake their heads. They were like a pair of little old ladies bickering over the last pair of support hose. None of them minded. The fun atmosphere was a welcome amenity.

Several beeps sounded and Giles vacated the grill to grab his new cell phone that had walkie-talkie service – an addition he'd had to make recently because of the situation with the media. He pressed the button and spoke into the phone.

Through the phone's speaker, a voice boomed back. "The FBI agent, Gunn, is here with Mr. O'Meara's sister," said the security guard Giles had hired to watch over the driveway entrance to the house. "Should I let them come up?"

"Oh, yes! I'm terribly sorry, I meant to tell you they were coming by," Giles answered into the phone.

"Okay. I'll let them through." The guard signed off.

Giles fiddled with the phone, trying to click it off. "Stupid contraption! You need a bloody manual to use it!"

"Gotta move with the times, Rupert," Spike teased, glad to have to grill to himself. He was the one, after all, who knew how to use the thing. He received a glare from Giles for the remark.

Soon, Gunn and Fred joined the group. By unsaid agreement, talk of the case was shelved for a while. They chatted about happy topics, anything to keep the carefree mood up. When the food was cooked, they all sat at the tables and enjoyed hot dogs and hamburgers. All too soon, the meal was over, and the chatter died down. The time had come.

"I guess you want to know what's been going on," Gunn broke the sudden tense silence.

"Now or never," muttered Buffy. She really did want to know, but she hated that they'd been having such a good time, and now the troubles of her past were again going to cast shadows.

"All right." Gunn nodded, stood, and wandered the patio for a few seconds. "We've been able to put together a lot of the details now. It seems as though the full reach of Wilkins' grasp goes back a ton of years. So I'll just start at the beginning. It'll help everything make sense.

"Okay." Angel took one of Buffy's hands in his, offering her comfort as they sat and listened to the story of Sunnydale's corruption and how Buffy, and the Giles family, became the victims of power and money.

Gunn began by telling the group how Richard Wilkins III and Philip Walker met while taking a political science course in college. A friendship developed between the two, lasting through college. If Philip walker thought his friend Richard was a little odd or devious, he had thought nothing of it. At least not until a fateful few days he spent with the Wilkins family at their weekend getaway ranch in Arizona a few years after they'd graduated from college. He'd been left forever wondering if he shouldn't have turned down the free trip.

What Philip hadn't known before going to Arizona was that Richard was in a battle with his father, Richard Wilkins II, over when the elder Wilkins planned to retire as mayor of the Wilkins' hometown of Sunnydale, California. The younger Wilkins wanted to become mayor himself, but his father was holding him back, as he wasn't yet ready to give up his position. That, Philip later learned, hadn't sat well with Richard III.

That's how it came to be that Philip and the two Richards were out riding one afternoon at the Arizona ranch. And that's how it came to be that the elder Wilkins fell to his death into a deep canyon. And that's how it can to be that Philip saw Richard III push his father into that same canyon. Philip Walker had been shocked and appalled at such a murderous action, but the promise of power and position had kept his mouth shut.

After the death of Mayor Richard Wilkins II, a special ballot was held in Sunnydale, and Richard III won a landslide victory, the prestige of family aiding his win. Upon being sworn in, he promptly named his good friend Philip Walker as police chief.

And so began many years of favors and promises being traded back and forth, with Philip always possessing the knowledge that Richard III had committed murder to get where he was. A fact that did not sit too well with Sunnydale's Mayor.

That knowledge came into play when Philip Walker's son was accused of rape by one Buffy Anne Giles. Fearful that his son would be convicted and sent to jail, he called in a favor from good buddy Richard to help get his son out of trouble. Knowing he owed his friend, and hating it, Wilkins bribed and coerced the D.A. and other officials to get young Cameron Walker off. And because of their overwhelming prestige and popularity in Sunnydale, along with Cameron's athletic and academic prowess, their public supported them, and shunned Buffy and the Giles family.

The story would have ended there if it hadn't been for Buffy's, and the Giles family's, continued insistence that she had been raped and that the police chief's son was responsible. Richard Wilkins III didn't take well to people defying him. So he did everything in his power to make them pay. He encouraged his friends to make life rough for the Giles family, and Buffy in particular. And when they complained, or claimed harassment, he used his power to turn the accusations against them. Again, the people of Sunnydale supported their elders, and deemed Buffy a crazy woman, as well as the slut who cried rape.

Still, the tragic chain of events would have stopped there, Gunn told them all, if it weren't for the fact that sexual violence in a person wasn't generally a one time event.

"No!" Buffy gasped, her heart hurting for what she suspected he was about to say. "Please...don't tell me..."

"I'm sorry, Buffy," Gunn said softly. "In his junior year of college, a freshmen girl came forward and claimed that Cameron had raped her." Tears flowed down Buffy's cheeks as Gunn continued.

Again, Philip Walker went to Wilkins for help in getting his son out of a mess, Gunn relayed to the group. Wilkins had other worries, though. With two claims against the boy, people were more likely to believe the insipid females. And if people started to see the truth, they may have found out about his illegal doings regarding Buffy's case. He needed a way to further tarnish her image, and to get her out of the picture for good. He was not, absolutely not, going to allow some useless, whiny female to bring him down.

And so the plan was born to set Buffy Giles up for the murders of her family. What better way to discredit her, and put her out of commission than to have her arrested, her reputation completely ruined, and then thrown in jail? It was the perfect plan. Wilkins would save his own ass, and get Buffy out of the way, along with the added enjoyment of seeing Buffy and her family get their due for daring to stand against him. He wouldn't do the dirty work himself, of course. He had underlings for such filthy doings.

The plan worked, too. One of Wilkins' paid thugs bought a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream, laced it with a drug, and slipped it into the freezer of the Giles house. When the family was out cold, he murdered three of them and framed Buffy.

Yes, the plan had certainly worked, and would have continued to be a success if it hadn't been for Rupert Giles' actions that night after coming home and finding the tragic scene. He faked his daughter's suicide, then hid her away for four years, wanting only to protect her though he'd believed she'd murdered his wife and two other children. That alone didn't change anything. Buffy was still considered a crazy murderer. And she would have continued to remain so if it hadn't been for the arrival of Angel O'Meara in Sunnydale.

The group knew most of the rest of the story from that point. They'd all been involved. Buffy's existence had been discovered, and they'd begun to investigate what had happened four years earlier when three members of the Giles family had been murdered. In the end, the truth came out.

"Man, what a sick, twisted mess," Xander muttered when Gunn finished.

"How can somebody be that evil?" Willow asked of no one in particular.

"But why was Angel's house set on fire?" This came from Fred, the newcomer of the group.

"Wondered about that, too," Spike seconded. "They didn't know Buffy was alive, did they?"

"No," Gunn shook his head. "According to Walker, Wilkins was nervous about Angel's digging around and his association with you, and Willow. You'd always supported Buffy. When we showed up at the Sunnydale PD, Wilkins got more worried and decided he needed to send a message to Angel, or at least distract him, so he ordered the house to be set on fire. He had no no idea Buffy was inside at the time."

"So this was all just to protect himself?" Buffy voiced softly, more tears flowing from her eyes. "He had my Mom and Dawn and Owen killed just so no one would know what he'd done after Cameron raped me?"

"I wish I could tell you otherwise." Gunn walked over and squeezed her shoulder in sympathy. He knew all of this had to be hard for her to hear. He was just glad that he'd been able to start the wheels of justice rolling for her.

Angel turned to Buffy, still holding one of her hands. "At least you know, now."

"I know," she lowered her head, hiding the devastation on her face. "It's just hard to realize that someone could be so...evil."

"Power is a great motivator," Gunn said by way of explanation.

The cell phone Giles carried beeped again, signaling contact from the guard at the bottom of the driveway. "Yes?" Giles spoke into the device.

"I have an Agent Miller and guest here," the guard explained.

Giles looked to Gunn for an explanation. As far as Giles knew, they weren't expecting anyone else.

"Tell him to send them up, and to come back here," Gunn answered and nodded to the patio where they were all seated. As Giles did so, Gunn turned to Buffy. "Remember that second favor you asked me?"

"You found her?" Buffy exclaimed, jumping up from her seat.

"We did," he confirmed.

Buffy dashed to the edge of the patio as the others looked at each other in confusion. "What's going on?" Willow questioned for the group.

Gunn refrained from answering, leaving it as a surprise. Within a minute, the sound of a car pulling up in front of the house, followed by the closing of doors, reached their ears. Everyone watched the entrance to the patio, waiting anxiously to see who was going to appear. Buffy had said 'her', but none of them, except Gunn and Buffy, had any idea who the 'her' could be.

Climbing the short staircase first was Agent Graham Miller. Behind him appeared a dark-haired head. When the woman's face came into view, everyone gasped. Except for Angel. He'd never seen the woman before, but it was obvious to him that he was the only one who didn't know her.

"Faith?" Xander exclaimed, nearly falling out of his chair.

"Oh God! Faith!" Buffy cried out and threw herself at young woman, hugging her tightly.

Faith's face showed shock and sadness as she saw the friends she'd been separated from for seven years. She'd known she was going to see them, but knowing wasn't the same as doing.

"Why did you leave? Where have you been? How did Gunn find you?" Buffy babbled the rush of questions. She was ecstatic to see her old friend, despite the fact that Faith was Cameron Walker's sister. For the short time Faith had been in Sunnydale after the rape, she had never once accused Buffy of lying about what happened. But then she'd disappeared, never to be heard from again. Buffy was desperate to know what had happened to her.

Faith pulled back from Buffy and let her eyes wander over all the people who had once been such a big part of her life. She knew them all except for the tall, dark haired man, and the petite woman with mousy brown hair. The others had all been her friends. Would they hate her now? She knew they had every right to cast shame on her. She wouldn't blame them if they did.

Not knowing what to do or say, Faith looked to Agent Miller for help. He'd been the one to come for her and knew what she'd been through.

"Just tell them the truth," he advised.

So she did.

"My father made me leave," Faith began, avoiding looking directly at anyone. "I heard him talking to Cam one night, and Cam admitted what he'd done. I already knew he was guilty as hell. I always...something always seemed a bit off about him even though he came across as the perfect son. But I knew you wouldn't have lied about what he did. Cam would have, but not you. That's what they were talking about that night when I overheard them, how they were going to get him out of trouble."

She took a deep breath and paced a few feet. "I don't know what I planned on doing, but I burst in on them and told them they had to tell the truth, that they couldn't do the things they were planning to do to you. Cam...he...he hit me and told me to keep my mouth shut."

"Faith..." Buffy whispered.

"The next morning, my father told me to pack my bags," she went on as if Buffy hadn't spoken. "He sent me to a house in Connecticut and told me if I said anything, if I contacted any of you, I'd live to regret it. I knew he was serious. So I went to Connecticut and stayed there with a guard watching every single thing I did, until the FBI came knocking at the door a few days ago."

Turning to Buffy with tears in her eyes, Faith reached her hands out helplessly. "I'm so sorry, Buffy. If I'd stayed, if I'd said something, none of this would have happened."

"No, Faith," Buffy walked over to her and pulled Faith into another hug. "This wasn't your fault. Who knows what they would have done to you if you'd said anything! I couldn't ask anybody to put themselves in that position."

"But your family-"

"That wasn't your fault. And...and it wasn't mine." Buffy was beginning to accept that it also hadn't been her fault that her family had been killed. At times she still blamed herself, but she knew she could have done little to stop it. "We were victims, Faith. All of us."

"God Buffy, how can you not hate me?" Faith whispered, the tears in her eyes finally falling.

"I don't hate you," Buffy replied softly. "What matters is that your back and that you survived."

She'd survived. Just like Buffy had.

* * *

The moon was full and high as midnight drew near. Sleep hadn't come for Buffy. Too much weighed on her mind. Tonight she'd gotten all the answers to why her life had been turned upside down, why her loved ones had been killed. Why one of her friends had disappeared. It was a relief to finally know, but that didn't make it any easier to accept. Add to that the things she'd been thinking about lately, and what she had spoken to her father about earlier, and her mind was too keyed up to sleep. 

So instead of lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling, she'd returned to her former haunt. The beach. It was a place that always brought her comfort and peace. She'd escaped here many nights during the past four years. It was risky to be there now, given that reporters were still seeking her out, but she was pretty sure she'd gotten away unseen.

She was right. Almost.

A shadow fell across the sand as Buffy sat watching the waves lap at the shoreline. She lifted her head, not all that surprised to see Angel standing off to the side just behind her. Smiling slightly, she patted the sand next to her. Angel complied, and soon they sat side by side, their thighs lightly brushing each other.

"Just like old times, huh?" Buffy mused. "It doesn't seem like it was less than two months ago that we first talked here."

Tilting her head, Buffy gazed up at Angel's strong profile. "You're my savior, ya know? My Midnight Angel. You saved me from the darkness. I would probably still be hiding in my father's attic if it weren't for you."

"I can't take all the credit, Buffy," he disagreed in a soft voice, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to pull her close. "Willow, Xander, Spike, Gunn...they all played a part. But it was your strength that got you through this."

Buffy didn't reply directly. She thanked him silently again, knowing that despite what he said, her life was forever changed because of him. "I'm just glad it's mostly over. I can move on with my life now."

"Do you know what you're going to do?" Angel asked the question that had been weighing on his mind quite a bit. He just hoped he could accept the answer.

Turning her face away, Buffy looked out over the ocean, out to places she couldn't see. She closed her eyes and leaned closer to Angel. She hated what she was about to say, but it was what she had to do. Her life, though better, was still a mess. There was only one way to change that.

"I'm leaving Sunnydale," she finally told him.

The response didn't come all that much as a surprise. He'd almost been expecting it.

"When?" he forced out.

"The end of next week," she relayed, her heart aching. It was time to say goodbye to her home, but it would be difficult leaving everyone – Angel – behind. "My father has a friend, Wesley, with a small house nobody uses in New Hampshire. He's already talked to him and Wes said I can stay there as long as I like."

"Sounds like a good plan," Angel replied, hoping the sadness in his voice went unheard.

"I'll miss you," she whispered, tears clouding her vision. Leaving Angel and all her friends was the last thing she wanted to do. But she had to. Getting away from Sunnydale was the only way to truly move on from her past.

"I'll miss you, too." Angel hugged her tighter. He didn't want to see her go, knew it would tear him apart, but he wouldn't stop her. It was what she needed to do. "I'll always be your friend, no matter where you are. All I want is for you to finally be happy, Buffy. That's all that matters to me."

Buffy raised her head and stared at Angel, feeling like her heart was being torn out of her chest. She reached a hand up and caressed his cheek. The slight stubble tickled her palm, but she hardly felt it. Her head tilted back further as Angel's leaned closer.

Their lips touched in a gentle kiss. There was no passion or heat in the embrace. The kiss was simply an affirmation of the connection they'd made, one that could not be broken. As their mouths separated, their bodies remained close, the contact further cementing the bond between them.

Together, they sat in each other's arms on the beach until sunrise, watching as the moon slipped beyond the horizon and dawn's light filtered through the air. Their time together was limited now. Maybe someday, when the past no longer shadowed the present, they would be free to seek more than friendship. But for now, both knew that no matter how far apart they were, no matter how much time passed, they would always have each other.

Some bonds were meant to last forever.

* * *

THE END 

_AN: I know that wasn't the ending everyone wanted or hoped for, but please hear me out. I spent a really long time agonizing on how to end this story. I really wanted there to be a happy, B/A ending to the fic. In the end, though, it came down to a choice between doing the riding' off into the sunset ending, or staying true to the story. No matter which way I tried to work it, a B/A ending just didn't fit the story. If I'd just stuck them together for the sake of 'shippyness, it would have been wrong for the characters and the situation. So that's why I ended the fic the way I did. I hope you'll understand._

_As for the question of a sequel – which many people have asked me about – all I can say now is that it's likely, but not definite. I have something in mind, but haven't been able to think too much about it. But it is definitely possibly there will be more to this story, especially something to unite B/A...and to answer a question or two that I left hanging. Please don't ask me when it'll come out. I have absolutely no idea if or when a sequel would be posted. _

_I want to thank everyone who sent feedback on this story. I got so many wonderful emails about Midnight Angel, and I appreciated all of them. So thank you all very much!_

_Lastly, I will have a new AU coming in January – Smoke & Mirrors._

_Until then, Happy Holidays!_

_Isis FG_


End file.
